


Endless Binding

by JaydenAubrey



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Dom/sub, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaydenAubrey/pseuds/JaydenAubrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Liara and Shepard struggle adapt to their new life and how the war has changed them, for better and worse. Every action has its consequence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Quick warning: Smut follows. And plot. A plot that kind of ran away with me when I wasn't looking.**

**Also, this is slightly AU with a fair amount of hand-waving as to how the Reapers were destroyed and Shepard survived. It's best not to think about it too hard.**

* * *

It was odd not to feel the hum of the Normandy's systems envelop her, nor feel the barely perceptible rumble of the engines in the deck beneath her feet. There were no systems singing to fill the quiet, no deck or engine reverberating beneath her feet. Aboard the frigate, the gravity had been near-normal with occasional fluctuations. Still, Liara felt herself compensating for variances that were no longer there.

It had been over a year since the destruction of the Reapers, and seven Earth months she had spent on the surface of a single planet. Over seven months to adjust to such a vast, unending assortment of differences that Liara had not expected.

It had taken several months for Commander Shepard to recover from the injuries suffered during her last confrontation with the Reapers. When she was finally released from the medical facilities aboard an Alliance Fleet vessel (there were no medical facilities left on Earth with the capabilities of managing her care,) a remote location was established for her continued physical and mental recovery.

Earth was much different from Thessia, or any other place Liara had lived. The cabin where she and Shepard had taken residence was very comfortably furnished, but deceptively rustic in appearance. The walls were rough, unfinished wood in many of the rooms, and the ceilings were open, exposing the rafters which were the trunks of trees stripped of bark and polished. The floors were a little better, yet still wooden though sanded and sealed with a glossy finish. There was even a "fireplace" as Shepard called it: a stark, grey stone hearth in the main room in which a fire could be built. Why the cabin was equipped with such a primitive heating capability when it was also equipped with standard environmental controls was beyond the asari's comprehension.

It was a contradiction that was echoed in the rest of the house. There were rough wooden walls, yet the house was fully equipped with communication arrays, enabling holographic communication and connection to the extranet, which was useful for rebuilding Liara's system of information contacts that had been devastated by the Reapers. The doors swung open on hinges, instead of sliding into the wall automatically, but there was an advanced security detection system designed to alert them to and potentially eliminate any unwelcome visitors. The kitchen and bathrooms were modernly equipped, but decorated with hideous curtains over the windows that Shepard told her were "plaid."

The cabin's surroundings were much more amenable to Liara's tastes. Nestled in the high, remote forests of the Rocky Mountains, an appellation that Liara found incredibly redundant, they were isolated from the rest of the galaxy. There were no well-wishers, no masses crying out for the attention of the Galaxy's savior, no intrusions of any sort. A doctor appeared at regularly scheduled intervals to check on the commander's progress, and Lt. Cmdr. Williams would bring supplies every other week, but otherwise they were alone.

The forest itself was beautiful, and the cabin was relatively small in comparison to the mountain which seemed to swallow them on all sides. Trees stretched far overhead but were adequately spaced that navigating through them was not challenging. Long, slender needles from the trees identified as pine crunched underfoot and lent to the natural smell of the area, of wood and dry earth. Small mammals skittered through the brush, up trees, poking their small heads out to beg scraps of food whenever Liara passed. Rocky crags and smooth boulders occasionally jutted from the ground, like the bones of a giant, as if an afterthought to interrupt the forest.

In the early days, when Shepard's mobility was still hampered by her injuries, Liara would help her shuffle out onto the porch. The forest dropped steeply behind the cabin, affording a beautiful view of the valley below. It was her lover's favorite place, where she could gaze down at the snaking stream of snow melt that drained into the valley. For hours they would sit, huddled next to one another, shared blanket across their laps, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence. Liara once asked Shepard what she thought of in those moments.

Shepard reached for her hand and squeezed it, glimpsed wistfully over the valley and the thousand shades of verdant green of trees and bushes and grass. "What we have done for our children."

It was another change, one that Liara still reveled in the newness of even after Shepard was mostly healed and winter settled all around them in a blanket of oppressive white. Just thinking about it made her dizzy with happiness she never imagined possible.

In all the years she had been with the human, in all the years she had been her friend and lover, privacy was never something of which they had abundance. Shepard was her commander; Liara was part of her crew. They both had their duties, many of which prevented them from being openly affectionate or even together as much as they would both like. Stolen moments between missions, a professional conversation that bled into personal and then back again, late nights in the commander's cabin. Shepard had died, and then returned, but still both had their duties.

When Earth was attacked, and Liara once again joined her on the Normandy, their relationship was reaffirmed and stronger than ever. Liara spent most nights in the commander's cabin when she wasn't monitoring her information networks, and their relationship was far from being secret, though they were strictly professional except when alone. But, again, it was different. Circumstance had been a devastating, dizzying rush towards the precipice of either survival or extinction. Battles, losses, duty…

This was the first time in their relationship where the two women were free to be together without pressure or interference. There was no galactic threat, no looming dread on the horizon, no crew mates or Alliance protocol.

As Shepard healed, both physically and emotionally, they settled into what the human teasingly called "domestic bliss."

Liara called it an early start to her matron stage.

Every act, no matter how small or routine became new and fascinating, because it was done in  _their_  home. In the beginning, Liara had done the majority of the household chores, the cleaning and cooking, ensuring that her stubborn lover took the medications the doctor prescribed. But gradually, Shepard had begun to take over parts of the routine. She cooked, which Liara could not help but find exceptionally endearing, and washed dishes. She made the bed in the morning mostly because she claimed it caused her physical pain to see a bed not made up to military specs, even if the comforter and sheets were pale blue floral print.

While Liara began work on her book on Prothean culture, Shepard thumbed through the numerous reports detailing the reconstruction of Earth and the galaxy or playing chess via extranet with Specialist Traynor or finding small projects around the house to work on. At night, they'd curl up on the sofa in front of the fireplace, which Liara had finally admitted was romantic even if it was obsolete, and talk about anything and everything.

In those moments, Liara would nuzzle under Shepard's arm and rest her head on her chest, listening to the strong, steady murmur of the human's heart, and still wonder that it was all real. Shepard would stroke her crest and smile, that small, affectionate smile reserved only for Liara. Sometimes, they would fall asleep like that on the sofa and not wake until morning. Sometimes, Shepard's fingers would drift down and link under the band of leather buckled around the asari's neck, tugging her upwards into a heated kiss.

Liara smiled a bit as her fingers lighted upon the collar fastened around her neck and twisted it absently. The habit was a fairly new one developed by the slight weight of the one-inch black leather band and silver buckle she now wore constantly. It hadn't been practical to wear it before, not without prompting questions from the rest of their companions, the crew. She'd worn it only occasionally then, behind locked doors.

Now the need for privacy was nonexistent, and no one mentioned it whenever they saw her on vidcom, except Javik. They had been discussing Prothean music for close to an hour when he had tilted his head to the side, considering her for a moment. "That is a human mark of ownership, is it not?"

Liara had swallowed hard and quickly dropped her hand from her collar, where she had been twisting it as she hastily scribbled notes on a datapad. She had met his many eyes, almost defiantly. "Yes." Her mouth felt dry as she tried to puzzle out the expression on his face. She had not nearly as much time to study Prothean facial expressions as other species.

"I was unaware that humans claimed ownership to other sentient races." He said simply. "What do they call it? A pet?" He used the human word.

"No! No not like…" Liara secretly hoped Shepard would interrupt them, though she never bothered Liara when she was working. The concept for what she and Shepard were was hard to explain, in any language, and she had never been forced to explain it to anyone before. Although "slavery" was understood galactically, it was a grossly inaccurate approximation for what she and Shepard were as a couple. Their roles had evolved naturally from their relationship, from shared images during their melds, from their mutual desires.

It was not uncommon for one partner to be naturally more submissive or dominant in any relationship, but the choice to embrace the unequal balance of power was less common, and in human terms, "kinky." But it simply felt right, for her to give herself fully over to the woman she loved, to commit herself to her without reservation, to trust her love and guidance and care in equal measure. How was she supposed to explain these things to anyone, let alone someone whose majority of life experience lay fifty thousand years in the past?

Javik stoically waited for her to continue. She touched the collar again as if to renew her confidence despite the flutter of uncertainty in her gut. "I have chosen to give myself to Commander Shepard."

"And she has claimed you for herself?" His head had bobbed in what Liara had learned was the Prothean equivalent of a nod, seemingly pleased with this answer. "It is… fitting. You were asking about Prothean orchestral organization?"

Shepard must have noticed her toying with the collar because suddenly she was behind her, hands on her shoulders. Leaning down, she kissed the top of Liara's head. "Somehow, I don't believe you're thinking about," She paused as she squinted at the terminal screen in front of her lover. "Prothean phonetic distinctions and the evolution of voiced phonemes in the select—what the hell does that even mean?"

"It's just discussing some of the aspects of dialects in Prothean language." Liara smiled; Shepard wasn't a scientist but she was much smarter than she allowed people to know.

"Mmm." Shepard replied.

Liara could not help but smile more broadly, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her lover. "Precisely! That's a voiced phoneme."

"Smartass." Shepard grinned into the kiss she planted loudly on Liara's cheek. "I think that may be enough for today."

"Yes, Commander. Let me just finish these notations, and I'll be done."

"Good." Shepard squeezed her shoulders affectionately, planted another kiss on the top of her crest. "Dinner is ready."

Liara focused on the screen for a moment, before glimpsing over shoulder to watch her lover limp into the kitchen, leaning heavily on her cane. She would need it for some time more now, perhaps forever if the cybernetic implants did not take again. She sighed with her inner struggle to desire to assist her lover in the kitchen, and turned back to her terminal. Finishing her notations, she powered down her station and joined her lover.

* * *

"I am glad what was served on the Normandy was not considered "good" human food." Liara commented as she set her fork down on her empty plate. Surprisingly, Shepard was more than proficient in the kitchen. It somehow seemed incongruous that the hardened soldier be as at home with a rifle against her shoulder, barking orders at her troops as she was with a whisk and stove. "What was that again?"

"Steak and eggs. Meal of champions." Shepard grinned and stretched languidly, like one of the giant cats that Liara had seen in a nature vid. "Did you like it?" She extended her good leg and poked Liara in the calf with her bare foot.

"I did, my love." Liara smiled and reached for Shepard's plate to bring to the sink, but was stopped by a hand gently covering her own. "Although I still prefer not to know the animal of origin of both those things." She added, wrinkling her nose, thinking again of the giant cat.

Shepard laughed and shrugged. "Asari are so picky about their food. Leave it for the morning." Her thumb began to stroke the back of Liara's hand, tan skin striking against cerulean. "I'm tired." She grinned broadly.

"Oh?" Liara smiled coyly and cocked her head to the side, her heart humming just a little quicker in her chest. "Well, then we should go to bed."

"Mmm. Good idea. This is why you're the smart one." Shepard pushed herself up from the table, relinquishing her hold on Liara's hand and reaching for her cane. "I'm just the muscle."

Liara abandoned the dishes on the table and followed her lover towards the bedroom, nudged her gently, playfully with her shoulder. "You say these things, and you know they are untrue."

"Who are you to contradict me?" Shepard leaned her stick against the doorframe, turned to face her lover.

Liara looped her arms around Shepard's neck, feeling the gentle pressure of hands on her hips as the other woman steadied herself. "I wasn't contradicting you, Commander," she purred before lips met hers.

That was not new. "Commander" rolled naturally off of her pale blue lips long before she and Shepard were ever lovers, long before there was ever a collar fastened around her neck. It wasn't traditional, she knew from her research on the extranet that many other titles were preferred, but "ma'am" was close as the couple ever came to them, and even that was natural given their positions aboard the Normandy. It also made sense; no one would think twice if Liara accidently called Shepard "commander" or let a "yes, ma'am" slip in public.

Lips grazed hers, tongue dancing out to gently tease her lower lip. Shepard cupped her cheek with her hand gently, then withdrew, her fingers lingering on her cheek. "I'll be back in a minute, my girl."

Once her lover had disappeared out of the bedroom, Liara wasted no time shedding all of her clothing and tossing it aside. When she was completely naked save her collar, she glimpsed around the bedroom, a variety of possibilities running through her head in an ordered list. She briefly entertained the notion of bending over the bed, her upper body resting flat on the soft blankets, the light scrape of the fabric against her sensitive nipples. While the throb of pleasure she received at the idea was compelling, instead, she dropped to her knees next to the bed.

There were rugs in the bedrooms, so the position wasn't uncomfortable as she sank down to set on her heels. She let her thighs spread naturally, not lewdly, and rested her hands on her knees. Inhaling deeply to settle the nervous pitch in her chest, Liara waited.

When Shepard returned, she halted in the doorway, struck momentarily dumb by the sight before her. She had seen her lover naked many, many dozen times over in every possible state and position. But she never ceased to be awestruck by the flawless beauty of bare blue skin, of equally blue, adoring eyes. Her breath hitched as she watched Liara for a moment, patiently kneeling for her.  _For her._  The thought caused a pleasurable itch in between the human's legs.

If this was her reward for saving the galaxy, Shepard would most happily take it.

It was possible to detect the waves of adoration emanating from the commander even without the meld active. It was clearly spoken in her eyes, in the manner she regarded her with a small smile. Finally, Shepard abandoned the doorway, her eyes darkening in a way that Liara could only describe as predatory. Moving to stand in front of her, Shepard shucked her own clothing with no regard to time. Liara could only watch as olive skin was gradually revealed, and she licked her lips absently.

The bed caved slightly under Shepard's weight as she sat, leaning forward to hook two fingers in Liara's collar to pull her nearer, to turn her so they faced each other. Wordlessly, lips sought hers again, and Liara resisted slightly, and the response was immediate.

Physically, Shepard was stronger and the tug turned into a yank, which brought their lips crashing back together and the kiss became rough, possessive. Shepard's mouth claiming hers forcefully, taking her mouth in the same way she hoped Shepard would take her body. She was already wet. "Shepard…" She whimpered into the kiss.

Her reward was another yank of her collar, and this time Shepard held her in place for a moment, her clear green eyes flashing dangerously. The spike of fear gradually faded into pure excitement. "Pardon?"

"Commander," Liara corrected and averted her eyes downward.

"Put that pretty mouth of yours to use, girl." The hand that clenched her collar was suddenly on the back of her head, pushing Liara's face in between the commander's legs. Straightening on her knees, Liara allowed herself to be shoved forward, until she could taste her lover. The hand tightened on the back of her neck as Shepard initially tensed, and then relaxed with a quiet gasp.

Liara complied, feeling her lover roll her hips into her mouth, knowing she could not struggle against the hand holding her in place. She could hear the base things Shepard called her, the rude accusations, even if they were slightly muffled by the thighs on either side of her head. "My little asari slut…" It was strangely exciting to hear her lover speak to her like this. She knew from their melds that Shepard did not really think those things, knew from experience she would knock anyone unconscious who said something so degrading to Liara. But at the height of passion, when Shepard spoke to her like that… it caused her to squirm and increase the pace of her ministrations, the dedication of her tongue and lips.

As Shepard panted and began to cry out, Liara found it harder and harder to keep her own arousal in check. She could feel the dampness between her legs, cool to the air. Pleasure turned to ache. The waves of desire began pulsing in her mind, biotic tendrils begging to reach out to Shepard's mind, to join with her. But she knew better. She almost faltered, almost reached out with her mind as her lover began riding her mouth in earnest, close to climax. Instead, she gripped the back of her lover's knees with her hands to steady herself.

Shepard tensed, her entire body going as rigid as stone as she came, her hand pushing Liara's face into her hard as she rode the wave of climax. Even as the hand relaxed against the back of her head, thumb gently stroking the folds of skin there, Liara continued to lick and suck until the last shudders of orgasm subsided, until Shepard tugged gently on her collar again. Breathless, Liara sat back on her heels again, still heady with desire now shaded with a hint of triumph.

For a brief moment, she entertained the thought of reaching down and touching herself, relieving a bit of the building ache between her legs. However, the consequences for such a thing would most likely leave her unable to sit comfortably for several days, and she did not relish the idea of standing at her terminal to type. At least, not this night.

Instead, she waited, and she did not have to wait for long. She had grown adept to deciphering the meanings of each tug of her collar. Some meant Shepard wanted her closer, some were to pull Liara into position, others were merely because it pleased the commander, and still more, usually quick jerks, were to remind the asari who was in charge. This particular one was indication for Liara to stand, and she did, grateful to stretch out the stiffness in her legs.

There was a glint in her lover's eyes, a quirk to her smile that Liara was unsettled to realize she could not quite interpret. Strong hands on her hips pulled her closer until she stood in between Shepard's legs.

"Put your hands behind your back."

Liara obeyed, interlacing her fingers and clasping her hands behind her back, letting them fall naturally behind her. The action caused her shoulders to square and her chest to thrust out. While one hand cupped her breast, fingers beginning to tease her blue nipple, the other sought out the moisture between her legs. Rough, calloused fingers began stroking, just scarcely slipping inside her for the briefest of moments, causing Liara to whimper at the denial.

"Tell me what you want, Liara." It wasn't a question.

The sensations, the hiss of pain as her nipple was rolled between thumb and forefinger, the deliciously harsh exploration of fingers in her slick heat, made it difficult to concentrate, difficult to reply instead of push down to create a bit of contact where she needed it most. Liara bit her lower lip. "I want you, Commander."

"You have me." Shepard replied, and Liara heard the smile in her voice without opening her eyes.

"I need you…" Liara gasped as a thumb grazed over her clit, causing her hips to respond of their own volition. "I need you take me."

Shepard did not reply. The commander loved to tease her, to push her past the limits of tolerance, the limits of frustration. Liara was convinced she was already at those limits. It took every bit of restraint in her body not to join with her, not to push herself down onto those fingers, not to grab Shepard and pull her into a searing kiss. Licking her lips again, she forced herself to think. "I am yours, Commander. I'll do whatever you want…"

"Whose collar do you wear?"

"Yours, Commander." Liara spoke quickly, as though she might lose the ability to speak at any moment. "I belong to you. Please… please… touch me, use me… any way you want. Just… I'm yours."

"You are mine." Shepard affirmed, her lips beginning a hungry trail of kisses from Liara's navel to her breasts, punctuated by occasional nips with her teeth. "Mine to fuck. Mine to love. Mine to do whatever I want with."

"Yours…" Liara exhaled as lips latched around her nipple, sucking, teasing. She cast her head back, her eyes snapping open as teeth grazed the sensitive bud. Her knees threatened to buckle from under her. "Goddess, Lissa… just… take me!" She panted in frustration and blushed. She hardly ever used the human's first name, and it tasted odd on her lips.

Growling low in her throat, Shepard stood and moved her hands to Liara's hips, half guiding, half shoving her backwards onto the bed. Trusting her lover implicitly, Liara allowed herself to fall backwards and landed on the soft nest of blankets. At once, Shepard was on top of her, straddling her hips, pinning Liara's wrists above her head with one hand.

Liara struggled and writhed underneath her, knowing she couldn't escape from Shepard's grasp only turned her on more, knowing that she was powerless against Shepard's raw strength. But she tried anyway, knowing how wet it made her lover when she struggled. Teeth marked the flesh where her neck became shoulder, a warning, and the asari cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure before stilling.

Caresses became more insistent, more possessive, and hard bites marked her several more times until it was almost too much. Liara squeezed her eyes shut, the need to cum, to meld was overwhelming and the blend of pleasure and pain left her frazzled, like a wire that had shorted out. Shepard lay flat on top of her, her free hand dipping between them, in between Liara's legs. She entered her, barely, a single finger inserted only to the first knuckle. Its presence was maddening, so close but not nearly enough.

"Fuck me, Shepard, please." Liara begged, blushing at the shameless desire of her words, the crudeness of them. "Please fuck me."

"No." Shepard grinned down at her lover, watching her writhe and squirm, anything to increase the pressure between her legs. She loved the power she had over the asari, the power she was given to control her, to keep her hovering so close to the edge and knowing she could deny her. It was intoxicating, and she wasn't yet ready to give in. Not yet.

Liara felt as if the world was crumbling away from her, and her breath came in ragged sobs of frustration. "Please…" She searched her mind, thinking of something, anything that would satisfy her lover, anything that would convince her to give in. Finally, there was a whisper at the back of her mind, a not-quite memory. "I'm  _your_  dirty, little slut, Commander. Please… please fuck your whore like she deserves." A part of Liara was deeply embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, but the other part of her didn't care as long as she was granted release.

The shift of surprise was barely perceptible, only a shimmer of shock that briefly passed over her lover's face replaced by a pleased moan of heated astonishment. Without warning, Liara felt three fingers enter her roughly, and without giving her even a breath to adjust to the sudden change, they slammed into her again. The opposite hand tightened around her wrists, painfully so.

It was the permission Liara needed to let her mind reach out, to accept Shepard's into hers. The force of shared arousal and need was stifling, causing both women to lose their breath for a moment. Every relentless thrust caused Liara to whimper and cry out, her need doubled by the fact each cry caused Shepard's own arousal to increase. A savage possessiveness consumed the human, and Liara surrendered to it, affirming it with her own submission.

"My pureblood slut." The words were spoken rather than whispered across the meld, and Liara's body responded of its own volition, driving herself down on her lover's hand, hard, pressing her clit against the palm and grinding.

_Please…_  Liara begged, but then realized that it had been spoken only in their shared mind. "Please, may I cum?" She phrased it as a plea and was not disappointed by the swell of lust she received from Shepard.

Grunting, Shepard nodded, darkened red tendrils of hair clinging to her brow with sweat. "Cum for me, sweet girl." She assented and thrust into Liara mercilessly.

The asari came hard, barely hearing her own scream of ecstasy as her own orgasm was enhanced through the meld by her lover's own. Her body quaked with release, and she ground herself against Shepard's hand and as the first wave gradually subsided, she felt herself being swept away by another. Tears leaked unbidden from her eyes, while her body was consumed with fire, with irresistible heat as her need flared and burned.

Eventually, as it faded, she shivered with cold, with overuse. Some vague part of her registered as Shepard pulled out of her, rolled off of her to lie next to her, but all she could feel was the constant tremor of her body as she recovered from the multiple orgasms. Even the feelings, the emotions she received across the bond were muddied, hazy, and Liara inhaled sharply, panicked by her inability to focus. Until a strong arm wrapped around her midsection and pulled her close.

Shepard held her until the shaking ceased, until Liara regained her composure and relaxed into her arms. She pressed her face into the commander's chest, inhaling her familiar scent. She always smelled of hardened female fresh and faintly of the soap she used, like some species of flower. The two lay entangled in one another's arms, trading emotions and wordless thoughts.

"Goddess, Liara…" Shepard rolled onto her back, and Liara rolled with her, resting her head on her chest and placing a hand on her chest over her heart. She threw one leg over her lover's, smiled at the contrast of blue and olive. Her smile broadened as she felt Shepard's amusement at Liara's observation of their skin tones.

"Yes, Commander?" She asked playfully, turning her head so she could kiss the bare chest beneath her cheek.

"You know exactly which buttons to push."

Liara understood the meaning of the expression through the meld, rather than understanding the phrase itself and grinned. She pushed herself up on her elbow to gaze down at Shepard, blushing at the sudden burst of affection she felt as their eyes locked. "I am glad I am so adept at pleasing you, Commander."

Fingers not her own toyed with Liara's collar thoughtfully. Love and possessiveness flared in equal degree, touched with pride and something else that caught the asari off guard. Gratitude, humility in stark contrast to the staunch territoriality… that Shepard was amazed by what Liara had chosen to give her, awestruck that she was gifted with such a beautiful, intelligent, perfect woman that she could never hope to deserve, that there was no force in this galaxy that could keep her from this woman, prevent her from protecting her.

Ducking her head shyly, Liara blushed at Shepard's thoughts. "You will give me delusions of grandeur if you are not careful, Shepard."

To which the human merely grinned and gently tugged on the collar. "Shut up and kiss me, Liara."

Covering the hand Shepard still held on her collar with her own, Liara happily obeyed, kissing her lover's grin with her own smile. Some things would never change.


	2. Chapter One

**So, the prologue was originally a standalone fic. What follows was a sequel that explores some of the lifestyle D/s things, as well as a bit of heavier plot, that took on a life of its own.**

* * *

"Are you sure you packed everything?"

"Liara, it's four days. And we aren't even leaving the planet. Or the continent for that matter." Shepard smiled, amused as she watched her lover pace back and forth across their bedroom. She picked a few extra rolls of socks from the dresser, walked to the bed to place them in her suitcase, only to change her mind and return to the dresser. "Besides, if we forget anything, I am sure I can use some of my pull as savior of all sentient life to get an extra pair of socks."

It was rare that she saw the asari harried. Even in the direst life or death situations, she always responded calmly, rationally. She kept her cool in combat, always responded well to pressure, never panicked. Very few things set Liara on edge, put her out of sorts. Well, except whenever Shepard drove them anywhere. But the only thing aside from what she referred to as "Shepard's suicidal driving tendencies" that managed to make her jumpy was her academic work.

It probably had to do with her early career, before she and Shepard met, when she was considered too young and naive to be taken serious by the academic community, when her theories and ideas were considered at best far-fetched and in some cases, heretical. But things had changed since then, and her theories and work with the Protheans was validated by an actual living Prothean.

"Did you pack your medicines?" Liara asked absently, her brow furrowed as she scrutinized the contents of her open suitcase.

Shepard's bags were already packed and waited by the bedroom door and had been for several hours. "Of course I did." She struggled against the stab of irritation in her gut. She might not be in top form, not capable of taking a charging krogan or even making it to the kitchen without her cane, but she wasn't completely helpless. Her lover was just anxious, she reminded herself. "Hey, come here, love."

"Shepard, not right now. The shuttle will be here in twenty minutes to pick us up." She refolded her clothing to make more room for another outfit. Just in case.

"Liara," Her voice sharpened, indicating that it was not a request. "Come here." Her tone finally broke through the asari's preoccupation, and she complied, moving to her lover's side and allowing her hand to be taken. Shepard smiled and pulled her into her lap, ignoring the shriek of protest from her hip and leg. Resting her hand in the small of Liara's back, she softened her voice. "You're going to give yourself an aneurysm before you even get to the lecture if you keep this up."

Purple flushed the asari's cheeks, and she ducked her head, abashed. "I'm sorry, Commander." She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands, an uncharacteristic gesture of nerves. "It's been so long since I've lectured. All I can think about is standing in front of all those people, and…"

"Hey, there's that awkward, shy archaeologist who stole my heart." Shepard teased, which only deepened the blush on her lover's face. In fairness, Liara had matured greatly over the years since they met. Now she presented a confident, unflappable countenance and most times it was true, but at heart she still possessed that timidity, that innocence of spirit and awkward uncertainty that Shepard found so endearing about her.

"Not helping," Liara said, but the broad smile that graced her lips betrayed her.

"You'll do wonderfully. You're a genius, and I can't wait to sit in that crowd and watch all those heads and scholars drool over my incredibly beautiful, unbelievably intelligent lover as you school them on stuff they weren't smart enough to figure out on your own, and know that you're all mine." Nuzzling into the asari's neck, she placed a delicate kiss on the curve of her jaw.

Liara ran her fingers through Shepard's hair, relaxing against her. It made her feel better to know that Shepard would be in the crowd, to know that her commander was proud of her. "All yours," She murmured, tilting her head and allowing her unhindered access to her neck.

"Speaking of which…" Shepard slipped a finger under her the collar fastened around Liara's neck. "I don't think you can wear this while you're lecturing."

"No," Liara agreed, a bit mournfully, touching her blue fingertips to the collar. "I might be able to get away with it since the majority of the attendees will be human. Humans are reluctant to acknowledge the obvious and would probably assume it is an accoutrement of asari culture."

Shepard turned the collar so the buckle was facing her and gently unbuckled it. She had not realized how accustomed she had become to seeing Liara wear it. Her neck appeared bare without it. Setting the collar beside her on the bed, she shifted to reach into her pocket. "Miranda helped me pick it out the last time we were here, since I have absolutely no sense of style, or so she claims." It was a braided leather necklace, not quite a choker, with a small, platinum medallion hanging from it. Shepard held it up for Liara to see.

From practiced routine, Liara held her head up, presenting her neck to Shepard so she could fasten the necklace on. She touched her fingers to the medallion that rested in the hollow of her throat. "It's engraved. It says Luthien, and…" Reaching into her pocket, she produced a second one, brown braided leather where the other was black and smaller. Shepard fastened it around her wrist. "This one says Beren. It's a reference to…"

Liara silenced her by placing her fingertips on her lips, then kissed her. "I know the myth, Shepard." She kissed her again, reached out with her mind to allow Shepard to feel the depth of her emotion, the overwhelming force of affection and tenderness the gesture had caused to well up in her throat.

Squeezing her hand tightly, Shepard affirmed the feelings with her own. "Come on then. Now we only have ten minutes until the shuttle gets here. That's enough packing. Let's wait on the porch."


	3. Chapter Two

"You think you had to travel through the relay to get here." Miranda said impatiently as their shuttle door opened. The former Cerberus operative stood with her hands on her hips, nearly glaring as the asari and human climbed out. "I have been waiting for an hour."

Shepard grinned and slipped her upper arm into the cuff of her cane while Liara and the driver unloaded their bags. "You know how traffic is on Earth, Miranda."

"Commander. I had forgotten. It almost makes me wish the Alliance had not pardoned me." Her glare was accusatory this time since Shepard had been largely involved for having the Alliance issue a full pardon for Miranda and a few other Cerberus defectors. Now, in a twist that tickled the commander with delicious irony, Miss Miranda Lawson, former ice queen of the outlawed Cerberus, now contracted with the Alliance, advising, researching, being wholly responsible for Shepard's medical care and recovery. "At least then I could be on a planet with a civilized transportation system."

"But then you wouldn't have the pleasure of getting to work with me, again." Shepard grinned. Miranda's eyes swept appraisingly over her, scrutinizing the cane, her posture, making mental notes on her weight and any other physical characteristics. Shepard had put on weight, which was good, but she was still far from her pre-war physique. The scars on her face healed nicely. She leaned heavily on her cane, as if using it to prop her up rather than using it to assist mobility.

"You're tired." Miranda decided, as if chiding the commander for her recklessness with her condition. "Hello, Dr. T'soni."

Liara set Shepard's bag down beside her and embraced Miranda, which startlingly, the human returned. "Always so formal, Miss Lawson."

Although their relationship had been strained at first, no doubt due to Liara's initial dealings with the Cerberus operative during the retrieval of Shepard's remains, and then having to hand them over to the one organization she knew Shepard abhorred, Miranda and Liara had developed a friendship. Liara knew that Shepard trusted Miranda, liked her even, and Miranda had come to respect Shepard's judgment implicitly. After all, if it hadn't been for Liara, Miranda would not have been able to bring Shepard back to defeat the Collectors, to save them all. If it hadn't been for Miranda, Liara would not have her lover.

What had been a casual friendship had intensified during the first few months after the war ended. Neither woman left Shepard's side for more than a few moments at any given time. While Miranda worked diligently to put the commander back together, to heal her wounds, Liara had watched and realized that this wasn't like Project Lazarus for her anymore. During Project Lazarus, Shepard had been an experiment, a faceless, voiceless task, a series of numbers and statistics and vital signs on a datapad. Now, that she knew Shepard, now that the commander had forced her to reexamine who she was, now that she had come to love the woman who had once just been a pile of meat and tubes, ensuring her survival, reassembling her, had been much more difficult.

They had shared tears and triumphs, and Liara had been graced to see the human side of Miranda that Shepard saw.

"Sorry, Liara." The dark-haired woman shrugged, smiled. "Force of habit."

Shepard picked up her bag, waving Liara off as she tried to take it from her. Miranda watched the exchange, amused. While they had never hid their relationship before, they were always professional in the company of others. It was entertaining to watch the couple interact without the constraints of professionalism. Liara fussed over the commander, and Shepard surprisingly allowed it without rebuke.

Her eyes settled on the necklace Liara wore and the bracelet around Shepard's wrist. A collar in a public setting, of course, was out of the question for the commander who was a soldier and officer to her core, and more conservative than she let on. Miranda had assisted her in picking something out for Liara that was more discrete the last time she had checked on Shepard's progress at the cabin.

Some of the things Shepard considered were altogether horrific. If it hadn't been impractical, she would probably still dress in a uniform. What had Miranda told her? Oh yes, "You have all the fashion sense and style of a hanar." She had contacted an artisan offworld, had him commission two pieces, and had them shipped to Earth. That was much more satisfactory than buying something off the extranet, Miranda thought.

"Yes, commander." Liara replied to a question that Miranda had not heard Shepard ask. While their relationship had never been a secret, the precise nature of said relationship was known only to a few, select individuals, and Miranda felt privileged to be among them. Shepard valued privacy, so she felt immeasurably humbled that Shepard invited her into her personal life, shared this part of herself, her relationship with her. Though she would never admit it, even if pressed.

Sexuality was fluid, flexible, and incredibly varied. All sentient life participated in innumerable sexual practices and customs, relationships and arrangements. Miranda considered Shepard and Liara's relationship with the same practicality that she considered everything else. It fit them, and it was no more or less unconventional than anything else she had seen over the years. If a race of ancient synthetic life forms could resurface every fifty thousand years to destroy all sentient life, who was to say what was normal anyway?

Besides, it was utterly fitting for Shepard to be in charge, in control. Miranda had realized that the moment she had officially met the commander.

"We'll be sharing the penthouse suite." Miranda said finally, once the couple had finished playfully bickering over the luggage. "It has three bedrooms, so I assumed you would not mind."

"Of course not," Liara said smiling as they followed Miranda into the hotel. "I can't say how much we appreciate you coming."

"Not at all, it saves me a trip to that forsaken mountain you live on." Miranda said dismissively, sneaking a surreptitious glance at Shepard who was being uncharacteristically silent. She had won the argument and carried her own bag, but Miranda had known her long enough to realize when she was being stubborn. Her heart ached at the woman who seemed so out of place when she wasn't in armor, when she struggled with a small duffel bag and leaned heavily on a cane to walk, her skin abnormally pale and pinched. She quickly looked away, ignoring the stinging behind her eyes.

"Why don't you all leave your luggage here?" She said when they reached the front desk. "Liara, I'm sure you want to get checked in with the conference? Shepard can go up to the room, and I will accompany the bellman with our things?"

* * *

Their accommodations were far more than adequate, Shepard thought. Somehow, the building had managed to escape the brunt of the Reaper attacks, and all damage had been quickly repaired to render the building serviceable again. It was one of the few in the area, and even after so many months it still served double duty as an Alliance headquarters as well as a hotel. It was impressive such a structure survived in what had been one of the larger cities before the war, but she hated the windows.

The lounge area alone boasted a huge sliding glass door that led onto a balcony. It once afforded a view of the city, a panoramic cityscape of a once beautiful city in the shadow of the mountains. Now it only overlooked a shifting expanse of rubble, of varying shades of gray and charred black. Once towering buildings were reduced to skeletons, hollow frames of concrete bone. Vehicles still littered the street like desiccated corpses, either burnt or rusted out. The sky was perpetually grey, cold. All the dust and debris kicked up by the destruction wrought by the Reapers had polluted the atmosphere. And even on a clear day the sky was more slate gray than blue. Past the city, the once majestic snow-capped peaks of the mountains now more resembled stony giants, overbearing sentinels gazing indifferently at all the destruction at their feet.

It made her wish they were home. She had not seen much of the destruction after the war. When she had been moved from the Alliance hospital vessel to Earth, she had been secreted far away, in the country, isolated from all the devastation. Sighing, she turned from the window and hobbled into the bedroom, where she abandoned her cane against the wall and lay on the bed, arms crossed over her eyes.

Her head was throbbing. She wasn't used to traveling anymore, and the hours in the shuttle had made her legs stiff and her joints ache. Before, she used to go days without sleep if she was on a mission. Now, she just felt tired. The pain in her lower body she had learned to cope with, but the headache was persistent. Sighing, she pushed herself into a seated position. She had carried up her small bag of personal items, medicines and such. But she had put them in the bathroom just off of her and Liara's bedroom when she first came in.

Grunting, she pushed herself off the edge of the bed and stood. The bathroom wasn't that far; she should have been able to make it without her stick. But she had not accounted for how stiff her leg would be without the aid of the artificial joint, without the support of the cane, and it buckled under the slightest weight, sending her sprawling across the hard floor.

Unfortunately, the bathroom wasn't that far and as she threw her arms out to break her fall, she miscalculated the distance and slammed her forehead on the bathroom door. The crack of her brow against the hard metal was jarring. It always amazed Shepard exactly how effective pain was at paralyzing the body. For several breaths, she could not move as the pain radiated in waves from her brow, into the roots of her teeth, down the back of her neck. Tears stung the back of her eyes before she could move again.

Dumb with shock, she pushed herself up, but not trusting her legs, dragged herself into the bathroom. Using the sink and her upper body strength, she pulled herself up to reach the kit stashed on the shelf above the sink and tucked it under her arm before lowering herself back down. She crawled, relying completely on her arms, to drag her back to her bed. She was seated before it finally began to settle in that she had fallen.

Her eyes settled on her leg, on the scars and bruises that lay under her trousers, on the malformed bones. A knot formed in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow several times. Several deep, even breaths and she had convinced herself that she was okay. Unzipping the med kit, she rummaged for her pills.

"Shepard, everything is settled with the front desk, but this is the last time I carry—" Miranda halted as her eyes settled upon the commander. She abandoned Shepard's bag at the door and crossed the room in a few quick, graceful strides. "What happened?" She knelt in front of her, took her wrist in between her fingers and began checking her pulse.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Shepard gently tugged away her hand, forced a faint smile.

"Oh?" Miranda eased up on her knees, lifting herself slightly so she could reach Shepard's face. Perplexed, Shepard tensed and shrank away but she still managed to wipe the pad of her thumb through the stream of blood that had not quite dried. She showed it to her. "Then what is this?"

The commander studied the blood on Miranda's thumb, genuinely bewildered. Touching her own fingers to her brow, she seemed surprised when they too came away bloody. Her expression hardened, and green eyes cast downwards, as if she were ashamed. "It's nothing."

How a single woman could be so unbearably frustrating was beyond comprehension. The years had done nothing to dull the commander's obstinacy. Miranda threw her hands up in frustration. "It isn't "nothing," Shepard. Your health and well-being is my responsibility, dammit."

"I fell."

"What?" Miranda frowned, confused.

"I tried to get to the latrine without my stick," Shepard explained quietly, gesturing vaguely at her cane which leaned against the nightstand. And I fell… and hit my head."

Her normal response would be a flippant comment about clumsiness, or at the very least she should chide her for her stupidity. Honestly, she was not a child and should recognize her own limitations. But… shame and insecurity were as clearly etched on the other woman's face. Tears glistened unshed in those emerald green eyes as Shepard turned to look at her, defiantly, as if daring her to something.

It wasn't the first time that she had seen Shepard truly vulnerable, and Miranda was astonished that it still shook her to her core to see the commander as anything other than uncertain, unwaveringly confident. This was the woman who took her through the Omega-4 Relay, who had bounded down from the ship onto the Collector base with an assault rifle resting on her shoulder as if going for an afternoon stroll. She had taken Miranda on every leg of their journey through the base. She had defied The Illusive Man, destroyed the Human-Reaper, and saved Miranda from plummeting to her death, half-carried her back to the Normandy. The same woman who killed a Reaper, on foot, and then said, "Well, one of us had to go," when Miranda had asked about it.

Now, she could not make it across a room unaided.

"It's okay." Tentatively, Miranda reached out and rested her hand on the former soldier's knee.

Shepard rolled the bottle of pills in her hand thoughtfully. "Will I ever get better?"

It was a hard question, one that Miranda did not even want to answer. "There are variables, many different factors to consider."

"Being tactful, Miss Lawson?" The commander grinned mirthlessly, rested her hand on Miranda's. "The truth?"

The former Cerberus operative inhaled shakily, wondering at the change in herself. Years ago, before she had met Shepard, she would have told anyone the ruthless facts, the cold truth. Softening the blow never did anyone any good. Now she was reluctant, and had it been anyone else, she might have still given a clinical, indifferent answer. Voicing it made it true, and she did not want it to be true, not just for Shepard's sake. "It is… unlikely, Lissa. The cybernetic grafts have rejected twice. I can, and will, try again, but they will probably reject as well. There are therapies… physical therapies, and you will regain strength, but…" She found she couldn't meet Shepard's eyes.

"I'll never see action again." Shepard whispered, still staring intently at the pill bottle without seeing it. "I'll never be who I was."

"No." Miranda withdrew her hand and went to the bathroom, filled a plastic cup with water, and blinked in the mirror several time until her eyes were clear before returning to her friend. "Saving the galaxy wasn't enough? You want to see more action? And people think I am arrogant." She asked said, smiling and hoping a little teasing would break the somberness of the moment.

Shepard popped the cap off the bottle and tossed two capsules to the back of her throat, chased it with a swig of water. "No, but I would have liked to have the choice." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You can still serve. Not even the Alliance is stupid enough to forcibly retire you if that isn't what you want. You could advise, assist with the rebuilding." Miranda tossed the empty cup into a nearby waste basket, sat next to her on the bed.

"Politics?" Shepard snorted and quirked a brow. "You have met me, haven't you?"

"Point taken, Shepard. Do you have any medigel in that bag?" Miranda reached across Shepard for the bag and began rifling through the contents.

"Yeah, some meddling asari insists that I have a tube with me at all times." Shepard smiled fondly as she mentioned her lover, but then the smile faltered. "Hey, Miri?"

Miranda dabbed a bit of medigel on her finger, angled Shepard's face towards her with her other fingers. "Yes?" It was rare that Shepard used her pet name, and the only person besides Orianna Miranda felt comfortable doing so.

"Don't tell Liara. I will." Shepard tilted her head, pulled her hair back with one hand to allow Miranda to apply the medigel. There was a brief fiery cooling on the cut as the medigel began to knit the wound back together, to seal it off from infection. "Please?"

Miranda slowly withdrew her hand, wiped the lingering remnants of medigel on her slacks. "Of course, Commander."


	4. Chapter Three

"Are you certain you feel up for this?" Liara examined herself in the bathroom mirror, smoothing out her dress so it hung flawlessly from her figure. She had chosen a deep red dress, burgundy in shade, because Shepard had once commented she liked how the color complemented her blue skin. It was asari in style of course, which Shepard also appreciated because it showed off her curves without being too revealing.

She didn't want to force Shepard to go if she was tired. Liara had noticed the cut on her temple right away, and Shepard had explained she had fallen, but assured her it was nothing. It was a scratch. She had just been clumsy. The commander seemed fine, but Liara also knew how stubborn she could be.

"You know I have been to this sort of thing before, Liara," Shepard responded from the bedroom, her voice slightly muffled, presumably because she too was getting dressed.

Liara smiled in the mirror. "I doubt you have been to anything quite like this. Academic conferences can be… different."

"Look, I'm an Alliance officer. I've been to plenty of balls, ceremonies, conferences. I think I can handle a "welcome social" for a bunch of scientists and nerds. I'm sure it'll be similar." She grunted with effort, and Liara couldn't imagine what she was doing. "A lot of chest pounding, self-congratulatory banter. 'Oh, interesting you should mention quantum phosphoric dingle-nuggets; I discovered the phosphoric dangle-niblets.' Everyone is completely confident that they are the only ones with the correct answer, but everyone is obsequiously polite about it. Then everyone gets drunk, and wakes up in hotel rooms not their own."

"Well, I have every intention on waking up in my own room." Liara gave herself one final glance in the mirror to ensure that her dress was straight, her necklace hung perfectly, before exiting the bathroom.

This was not the first formal function she had attended with Shepard over the years, but for those Shepard had always worn her Alliance dress uniform, which Liara found incredibly handsome. There was something about seeing her lover in military uniform, so pressed and pristine, so flawless, that it set her heart racing. Shepard had a naturally authoritative presence, but in that uniform she seemed a foot taller, omnipotent. Liara found herself grow heady just thinking about it.

But she hadn't packed the uniform for this trip, because she had said, "This is about you Liara, not me. That goddamn uniform is like a beacon. It's bad enough I am who I am, I don't want that overshadowing what you have accomplished." Liara had been touched by the sentiment, but still disappointed that the uniform would not be making an appearance.

All such thoughts immediately fled her mind as her eyes lighted on the commander. "So? How do I look? It's been awhile since I've had to get all fancy in civilian clothes?" Shepard held out her hands and turned, the expression of genuine uncertainty on her face utterly endearing.

Liara's mouth was suddenly dry. She wore black slacks that were loose around her calves but hugged her thighs and hips tightly. She wore a pale blue button-down shirt with a collar under a black vest, both were traditional wear for human males but these garments were perfectly fitted to Shepard's figure, showing off every curve and asset of Shepard's femininity. Around her neck she wore a scarlet red tie, knotted at the throat and disappearing under the buttoned vest. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled to her elbows, and her auburn hair tucked behind her ears.

Though she wore what Liara would have assumed were more masculine accessories, Shepard appeared very comfortably feminine and alluringly powerful. She caught the ripple of muscle in her forearms as Shepard lowered her arms, and faced her. Liara forgot she had not answered and swallowed hard several times, unable to tear her gaze away from her lover. "Y-you look beautiful, Shepard."

"Are you sure?" Shepard ran her fingers through her hair, one of her anxious gestures. "I don't want to embarrass you in front of all your scholarly friends."

Liara crossed the remaining distance between them and took the tie in between her fingers, marveling at how smooth the fabric felt as she gently tugged the commander in to kiss her. "I could never be embarrassed by you, Commander. Never."

"Mmm." Shepard smiled into the kiss. "Have I been granted your approval then, Dr. T'soni?"

Liara pulled away to study her lover's face, appalled. "You've never needed my approval!" Then, when she realized that her bondmate was teasing her: "You're beautiful. You've always been beautiful, no matter what you wear. But this…" She fingered the tie suggestively, stood on her toes for another, slower kiss. "This is particularly intriguing."

"Oh?" Shepard cupped her cheek, placed a hand on her hip and pulled her close until their hips pressed together. "Maybe we should skip the social, and we can find out exactly how 'intriguing' I can be."

"Commander…" Liara breathed, feeling her cheeks flush with the thought. "You can't say such things. I'd appreciate it if I could make it through this one social without being utterly distracted." In retrospect, she should have known better. Saying that her commander could not do something was the surest way to provoke her.

"Oh, Dr. T'soni," Shepard said darkly and grinned, patting her backside. "Perhaps you need to be reminded about what exactly I can and can't do." She pulled away slowly, her hand lingering on Liara's cheek. "Grab my cane for me, please."

Liara complied, reaching for the stick that leaned against the wall and handing it to her lover, who slipped the cuff on. "Sadist…" She muttered under her breath, trying to restrain the smile tugging at her lips.

"You would not have it any other way, my love."

* * *

The social was about what Shepard expected it to be, although it was more crowded than she expected. There were at least two hundred scholars and scientists in attendance, with more expected to arrive the following day for the official start of the conference. She learned, from listening to Liara speaking with some of the scholars, that this was an "emergency" conference to discuss and share knowledge learned in the aftermath of the war with the Reapers.

There academics were of nearly every discipline: physicists, astrophysicists, engineers of every variety, psychologists, medical doctors, biologists, chemists, anthropologists, archaeologists, historians, and even a few professors of literature. The leaders of every field were present, and Shepard was not surprised that Liara could freely converse with just about any of them.

At heart, Liara had always been a scientist. Her motives for joining Shepard had initially been curiosity, and the personal connection of her mother, Matriarch Benezia. And while she was more than a capable fighter, she was and never had been a soldier. It saddened that the war had steered her so far off course from her original goal, took her from the path she obviously loved. Even if in the end, none of their success would have been possible without her.

More than the wistfulness, Shepard felt proud. Liara was intelligent, as much at ease speaking with a horticulturist as she was with a fellow archaeologist. Shepard was smart as well, but in a different way. She was good with people, with tactics. With strategy and war. Liara was academically intelligent, her mind absorbing information at a rate that Shepard could never even hope to be capable of. She made connections between seemingly unrelated bits of data in an instant.

Most of the night, Shepard merely observed, watching her lover converse with her colleagues, nodding at appropriate intervals but otherwise saying very little. She didn't have much to contribute to the conversations anyway.

Liara was beautiful. The way her brow knit together, the way she nodded when considering one of the other scientist's theories. The way she cocked her head to the side whenever she found something particularly interesting. The way she laughed at jokes that sailed far over Shepard's head. This was Liara's element, and it made Shepard happy to see her in it.

"You're not tired?" Liara rested her hand in the crook of Shepard's arm, laid her head on her shoulder momentarily. They had spent most of the evening meandering from one knotted group of scholars to another.

Shepard shook her head, smiling fondly at her. "I'm fine. How about you, Dr. T'soni? Tired of all the attention yet?"

Liara felt her cheeks flush slightly, and she glanced around self-consciously. "What?"

"Don't tell me you hadn't noticed?" Shepard inclined her head, indicating the entire room. "Everyone in this room wants you. Notice how every time we join a group, several more people show up right after? They all want you."

"That can't possibly be true." Liara said, though she had noticed that everyone seemed to know who she was, and was very friendly. She looked up at Shepard, trying to determine whether or not she was being teased, but it didn't seem so.

"It's true. You're brilliant. You're beautiful. You discovered the Crucible. They can't take their eyes off you. Watch." They walked passed a small cluster of people, two humans and an asari. Their conversation did not slow, but their eyes definitely shifted. The asari went so far as to turn her head completely, unabashedly raking her gaze up and down. Suddenly, Liara felt hot. "Told you, they all want you. But you're mine."

"Should I start introducing you as my owner, instead of my bondmate?" Liara teased, squeezing Shepard's arm. She wasn't accustomed to the attention. It made her a little uneasy, but also made her heart beat a little quicker. Being noticed was something she worked hard to avoid most of her life, content to be alone on her dig sites, away from the pressures of being Matriarch Benezia's daughter. This was different. People didn't look at her because of who she was related to. They were looking at her because of who she was, what she had accomplished. And the difference was dizzying.

Shepard made a noise in the back of her throat. "That might only encourage some of them. Besides, I know who you'll be going home with tonight."

Emboldened by her realization, Liara felt playful. "Oh, and who is that?"

The commander leaned in, her voice dropping so that only the asari could possibly hear. "The human that's going to have you on your hands and knees, fucking you from behind tonight."

"Shepard!" Liara gasped, feeling her face turn violet. The words, and the image they conjured, sent a jolt of sharp pleasure in between her legs. "How am I supposed to concentrate when—"

But the human only grinned more broadly. "The woman whose every command you will obey, or suffer the consequences."

Liara suddenly remembered their conversation in the hotel room, Shepard's warning about her needing a reminder. She groaned at the sensations her lover's voice, her words caused. "Please…"

"Oh you'll be saying 'please' a lot tonight, my love." Shepard showed no signs of letting Liara off the hook, which only made the asari's breath quicken. "Unless I decide to put that mouth of yours to better use."

Liara shut her eyes, allowing her lover to guide her for a moment. She could feel herself getting wet. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly Shepard could turn her on, how swiftly she could be coaxed into desire. And the fact they were in public only made it worse. Or perhaps better. Her cheeks were burning, but she felt a thrill knowing that they were surrounded by other people, and none were the wiser at what was transpiring between the couple. To the outside observer, they were simply walking around the ballroom, arm in arm, talking.

"You want that." It wasn't a question. "You want to feel owned by me."

Liara licked her dry lips. "Yes," She whispered.

Shepard grinned and leaned in to kiss Liara's crest in what appeared to be a tender, romantic gesture. But to Liara, the graze of her lips was maddening, and her knees felt weak. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Commander." Liara nearly whimpered. Every step only intensified her frustration, providing the slightest bit of friction, of pressure that was woefully inadequate. She felt the slickness between her legs, and her fingers tightened around Shepard's arm again, this time for support. "I only want to be yours."

"Good girl," Shepard said, and dropped her arm to snake around her waist, her hand resting on her hip, her thumb just grazing the top of her buttocks, stroking. "Now, for the rest of the night, I want you to think about it. Of all the sordid, dirty little ways I'm going to make you mine."

Liara blinked, realizing that Shepard had deliberately steered them towards another group of scholars, who visibly brightened at their approach. How was she supposed to engage in any sort of intelligent conversation when all she could think about was Shepard's hand between her legs, her mouth on hers? Her eyes narrowed in realization, and she bit on the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning. "Sadist…" She muttered, just so her lover could hear, and then forced a smile for her fellow academics. "Dr. Brandt, how lovely to see you again."


	5. Chapter Four

Liara's heart beat faster and faster as they approached their hotel room. Shepard was silent as they rode the elevator up from the main floor to their suite, which only caused the asari's anticipation to intensify. By the time they were actually in their room, her heart was thudding and her blood audibly rushed in her ears.

She opened her mouth to speak but Shepard placed a finger over her lips. Liara nodded at the unspoken command, and reached for the commander's vest, her fingers deftly dealing with the buttons. Neither spoke. Their gazes locked with one another, Shepard's green gaze one of smoldering intensity, of patient need. Gently tugging, Liara loosened the tie and pulled it over her lover's head, tossed it aside onto the bed. The shirt swiftly followed it.

There was an intimacy Liara enjoyed about undressing her lover. It wasn't necessarily a task expected of her, but one that Shepard appreciated. And in the current context, it was dizzyingly erotic. When she was naked from the waist up, Shepard placed her hands on Liara's shoulders and gently turned her. She unzipped the dress agonizingly slowly. Liara inhaled sharply as strong hands slipped under the fabric of her dress, contacting with bare skin.

"Shh. You have to be quiet tonight, love. Not a sound." Shepard whispered, her breath grazing the back of Liara's crest.

Liara straightened and gave a half-nod of understanding, taking her lower lip in between her teeth and resolving to be as silent as space. She felt particularly submissive this evening; usually she enjoyed provoking her commander a bit, tempting out the aggressive side of her lover. She loved feeling the rush of powerlessness whenever Shepard asserted her authority, moved her wherever she wanted her, held her down.

Other times, she simply wanted to give herself to the commander, to submit completely and know she was safe, loved. Voluntarily surrendering held its own appeal, knowing that she did so by choice, aware that she was utterly owned by Shepard, knowing that the gift of herself was accepted and appreciated completely. It made her feel whole, complete in a way she might not have ever known but by experience. As if by submerging herself in Shepard's will, she had found fulfillment, purpose.

Liara felt herself undressed slowly, her dress puddling at her feet, followed by her underwear. She felt herself pulled backwards until her back pressed against Shepard's front, the human's nipples hardened against her back. "Present." Shepard's voice was still a whisper, a gentle command.

Reluctantly, Liara pulled away, breaking the skin-to-skin contact and crawled onto the bed. She knelt, then fell forward on her elbows, her ass thrust upwards, and waited. She was already wet; her lust had been steadily building ever since their whispered conversation in the ballroom. She needed release, but knew it would come whenever Shepard was ready, and Liara felt satisfaction in her acceptance of that fact.

She listened, hearing the rustling as Shepard prepared herself. Liara had a good idea of what to expect, and she wanted to glance around, but held her position. She preferred Shepard's commands holding her in place, rather than cuffs or rope. Sometimes though, Shepard found the bindings necessary whenever Liara squirmed too much, too often. But Liara enjoyed being forced to rely on her own self-restraint, of having to make the conscious decision to obey.

The bed caved as Shepard finally returned, climbed up behind her lover. Strong hands gripped the asari's hips, pulling her backwards. There was a hovering moment of hesitation, a breath that seemed to freeze, as Liara felt the tip of the phallus press into her. She could tell by the way Shepard exhaled shakily as she entered her that it was the one that transmitted sensation.

Liara bit down on her lower lip to keep from whimpering as she was filled, bit down harder as the shaft was slowly withdrawn and entered her again. Once the meld was active, she'd cum nearly immediately, but it wasn't about her tonight. It was about Shepard. Even if every thrust made Liara pant with need, her gratification would be secondary tonight. Pushing back, she took Shepard in deeper and was pleased by the sharp gasp of pleasure that escaped her lover.

Liara squeezed her eyes shut, losing herself in the pleasure, losing herself to the knowledge that right now she was being used solely for Shepard's pleasure, and Shepard moved as slowly or as quickly as her own needs dictated while Liara fought her own desires. Liara tried to focus on Shepard's pleasure, to ignore the pulsing throb between her legs that was growing painfully wonderful. For a moment, she lost her composure and moaned as she felt herself entered more roughly.

Shepard paused and leaned forward, draping her body over Liara's, which only embedded her more fully inside her. "Quiet, love. Or else Miss Lawson will know you're getting fucked. And you don't want her to overhear you embracing eternity, do you?"

The thrill of Shepard's words sent a tremor of want through Liara's body. The threat of being overheard, of being discovered at her most vulnerable by another person was perversely exciting and caused her to clench her fists in the blankets to keep from crying out again. Panting with exertion, she forced herself to answer, "No, ma'am."

"Good girl." Shepard straightened, and began thrusting again. Fingers dug into her hips as the pace quickened, grew more desperate. She would be bruised in the morning, but Liara was always proud of the marks the commander left on her, a badge of pride, of how much Shepard wanted her.

When she came, it was with a shuddering sigh, but she did not slow. In fact, she thrust harder, and Liara had to brace herself more firmly on the bed to keep from being driven forward. The pleasure was becoming unbearable, but Liara was determined to hold firmly, to not beg or ask for release, to accept it when it was given. But it was hard. Her knuckles were pale blue as the blanket was fisted in her hands, and her lower lip was bruised from biting down to keep in her cries and moans. She felt her biotics smoldering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over as she longed to join with her lover.

As Shepard approached her second orgasm, she reached around Liara's hips, her fingers seeking out her clitoris. Shepard moaned barely audibly in the back of her throat as her fingers found the slick heat, then started teasing her already sensitive clit. It was too much, and Liara pressed her face into the blankets, to muffle the cry she knew she would not be able to stifle.

Shepard stiffened again, and this time her pace faltered as the climax overwhelmed her. She collapsed against Liara's back, her skin slick with sweat, her breath ragged. One hand still in between her legs, she was still inside of Liara. After a few long moments of recovery, she pulled herself erect again.

"Join with me." Shepard grunted, her voice hoarse.

Liara did not need to be instructed again, and her consciousness immediately collided with Shepard's. One voice, one mind, one need. Liara felt herself being fucked again, felt the shadow of pleasure that was Shepard's as the dildo entered her again, and again. Deft fingers played with her clit, pushing her nearly immediately over the edge of orgasm. Liara bit into the blanket, sobbing her release to keep from screaming as powerful waves of pleasure tore through her restraint.

Her muscles trembled, weakened by the orgasm, as Shepard whispered in her mind, gentle encouragement towards another climax that Liara was helpless to resist. Again her body tensed, her hips pushing backwards into Shepard's, taking her in fully, grinding down on the hand that rubbed her clit. Thought, time, reality ceased to have any meaning. There was no existence in the world outside of her and Shepard, outside of their pleasure, love. She lost track of physical reality, of how her body responded to the second, galaxy-moving orgasm.

When she returned to the present, she was surprised to find that somehow she had maintained her position and that Shepard had pulled out of her. Shepard pulled herself to lie next to Liara, to pull her out of position to lay on top of her. Grateful, Liara relaxed against the bare skin of her lover, shifting just slightly so that Shepard could remove the dildo and toss it aside. "I love that thing. But it looks ridiculous. And it just gets in the way afterward."

Liara smiled into Shepard's bare chest, pushed herself up slightly on shaky arms to kiss her. "I love you."

Shepard's eyes were visible even in the dark. "I love you too." Her fingers gently caressed the folds of Liara's head and neck, and Liara made a small noise of pleasure. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Tilting her head into Shepard's touch, Liara felt her smile broaden. "Yes. I probably am." Shepard kissed her again, nipping her lower lip with her teeth, and Liara squeaked. "I can't believe you packed that." She gestured to the dildo lying beside them. "You're insatiable. You could not make four days?"

Resting her head back on the pillow, Shepard closed her eyes. "I packed three. I believe in being prepared. The sensation-transmitting one. Two human models. Different sizes. And colors."

Laying her head back on Shepard's chest, Liara stifled a yawn and tucked her arms around her bondmate. "You're incorrigible."

"No, I'm sleepy." Shepard continued to stroke Liara's crest, her free arm wrapped tightly about Liara's waist, planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And besides, you're the one who picked them out, remember? You said we needed options."


	6. Chapter Five

"I feel as if I'm about to walk into a nest of thresher maws." Liara put the back of her hand against her forehead. She and Shepard stood to the right of the raised dais where she would give her lecture, hidden by the speaker systems. There was a podium on the dais, but no one stood behind it yet. People were streaming in, some in groups, some alone. They were all scientists, academics of some sort, and reporters: mostly humans, a few asari, and the odd salarian or quarian. Miranda was already seated a few rows from the front, an empty seat next to her.

"You'll be fine." Shepard rested her hands on her shoulders, kissed her forehead. "Just imagine the entire crowd naked."

Liara made a face; she truly did not understand humans sometimes. "How is that supposed to help?"

"Well, if they're naked, they're more vulnerable and… hell, it's supposed to help, make you feel more comfortable." Shrugging, Shepard let her arms fall to her sides, tightened her grip on her cane. "That's what Anderson always told me. 'Imagine the Council in their skivvies,' he told me."

"I fail to see how imagining a room of two hundred people nude except for their undergarments is supposed to put me at ease. If anything, I would find it distracting and in bad taste." Liara glimpsed around the speaker and wanted to disappear. "Goddess…" There were so many people, so many scientists and scholars, so many people that were at least as smart as her. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Hey," Shepard cupped Liara's cheek, turned her face so that their eyes met. "You are the best person I know, and certainly the smartest. You'll be fine. You just get up there, say your piece, blow all of their tiny little minds, and it'll be fine. If you get nervous, I'll be in the audience, you can just look at me and know that I have never been prouder of anyone in my entire life." Shepard's voice was that mixture of gentle and stern that Liara always found to be utterly reassuring.

Her pulse slowed, but a ghost of doubt still lingered. "Are you certain, Shepard?"

"Damn right, I'm sure, woman. How dare you question me!" Shepard grinned and kissed Liara chastely on the lips. "You'll be fine."

Liara smiled and nodded resolutely. "Well, the great Commander Shepard is never wrong, so I suppose I believe you." She smiled and returned the kiss with one of her own. The hum of conversation was growing steadily louder as more people gathered, but Liara didn't hear it. Instead, she considered how Shepard could always make her believe anything was possible. She made an entire galaxy believe they had a chance against the Reapers, even when it appeared that everything and everyone was already lost. It shouldn't be a wonder that she was able to put Liara at ease, to make her feel safe. "Now unless you're prepared to give one of those stirring, pre-battle speeches you give, you better sit down before I lose my nerve again."

Leaning in, Shepard kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You'll be great. I know it." She turned reluctantly and left her lover by the dais alone.

"How is she?" Miranda asked as Shepard settled into the chair next to her, slipping her arm from the cuff of her cane and leaning it against her leg.

"Nervous as I have ever seen her, honestly." Shepard replied, glimpsing at her watch. There were still groups of people filing in, more than had been at the social the previous evening. The lecture wasn't supposed to begin for another ten minutes, and it appeared that there wouldn't be enough chairs for them all.

Miranda tilted her head. "She's one of the most powerful people in the galaxy. You'd think after removing and replacing the Shadow Broker with herself, a little thing like a talk on Prothean language would be easy." She had accompanied Shepard and Liara during their confrontation with the previous Shadow Broker, with the yahg, and had been promptly knocked unconscious during the fight. What she did remember was how disgusting the creature was, and that wasn't just human prejudice coloring her opinion.

"I still get nervous before every mission. Got nervous. As many as I had been on. Tell me that makes sense." Shepard shrugged; the correction of her verb tenses was not lost on her former executive officer. "And snakes. I hate snakes."

"Snakes?"

"Yes, I hate snakes. They're gross and venomous."

"Not all snakes are venomous, Shepard." Miranda could not help but point out, smirking. "You've died, you know. And you're scared of snakes?"

Shepard glared at her, indignant at the accusation. "I didn't say I was scared! They make me uneasy. If I see one, I'll kill it. I'm not scared." She crossed her arms over her chest, nodded at the dais. "I think Liara's nervous because this is the first time she's been taken seriously as a scholar and publically recognized for it. Which she deserves."

Miranda did not mention that Shepard deliberately changed the subject. Instead, she followed her gaze to the dais, where Liara stood off to the side. Her hands were folded in front of her, and she seemed calm, poised. "She's an amazing woman, Shepard."

"Careful. I might think you were hedging in on my territory, Miss Lawson."

"Perish the thought, Commander." Miranda reached over and tucked an errant lock of red hair behind Shepard's ear. "You need a haircut."

"Go to hell, Miri." Shepard responded amiably.

"I've been there." Miranda responded coolly, settling back in her seat. "I served under your command, remember?"

At that, Shepard chuckled. The lights dimmed as a matronly human woman stepped up to the podium and adjusted the microphone. She was old, with the look of a librarian who rarely abandoned her books for the outside world. The murmur of the conference attendants swelled and then quieted as the old woman introduced Liara, and Shepard dropped her voice to a whisper. "Bitch."

* * *

"So, how do you think of yourself?" Miranda asked, taking a small sip from her wine glass.

There ended up being a few functioning restaurants in the city. Most had converted over during the recovery process as cafeterias and distribution points to feed the survivors. But a few managed to reopen with a very limited, very expensive menu. It was nearly impossible to get a table without a reservation several months in advance. But of course, Miranda could be very persuasive. She may have mentioned that Commander Shepard was in town, and would love to visit such a fine establishment.

There were a limited number of tables, but they had immediately been shown the best table in the house, a darkened booth isolated away from the other patrons. Their table was dimly lit with candles, more for ambience than practicality. Since this was one of the only functioning restaurants left in the world, its clientele was exclusive. No one spoke too loudly, meals were served in courses, and the waiters wore black ties.

The sort of place the commander never would have frequented if she had been given a choice. Liara and Shepard sat on one side of the booth, leaning comfortably against one another. The asari was practically glowing, a small smile never fading from her lips. The lecture had gone very well, and the rest of the day she had been the center of attention as fellow academics pestered her with questions about her research. So much so that she ran over her allotted time by over an hour, and no one complained.

"What do you mean?" Shepard idly turned the stem of her own wine glass between her thumb and forefinger.

Miranda sat opposite the couple. "It is my understanding that female dominants can think of themselves in a variety of different ways. Are you a domme? A goddess? A mistress?"

Liara had been mid-sip of her own wine, and nearly sputtered into it. Even in the dim lighting, Miranda could make out the blush that colored her cheeks. Shepard merely seemed amused. "Ah. I don't know if I've ever given it much thought, Miranda."

"No? Well, Liara, how do you identify yourself?"

The asari plaintively glimpsed at her lover, as if for rescue, but Shepard shook her head, and Liara sighed. "I don't know if I have ever thought about it either. Outside of what we are, that is."

"Then what are you as a couple?" Miranda asked. She had expected a more direct answer, from either of them. Watching the interplay between the two of them was always fascinating. Only someone who was aware of the precise nature of their relationship might catch the subtle cues, the small gestures of submission from Liara, or the casual assertions of Shepard's authority. But it was one thing to be aware of a different cultural practice or relationship, one thing to read about it on the extranet, but quite another to actually know someone engaged in a different-than-the-perceived-normal practice. The scientist in Miranda got the better of her. It was nothing she would have given any thought to before, if her two closest friends had not been engaged in it.

"I'm Shepard's." Liara said quickly, taking a sip of her wine to mask her discomfort with the conversation. Liara had always been so introverted, so uncharacteristically proper for an asari.

"And?" Miranda blinked, surprised that she hadn't had to prompt for more information than that, that Shepard encouraged her lover to continue.

"Well, I am yours and I trust you, and I always have. I trust you to do what is best for me no matter what. To take care of me, protect me, love me, to guide me to be the person I want to be." Liara worried her lower lip between her teeth as she thought. "And I wanted to give you all of me, to show you that I trust you with all of me."

Shepard pulled Liara close to her and kissed the top of her head. "And I love Liara. I want to be… the best person I can be for her. I feel better knowing that I'm not just responsible for myself, but for another person. Now," She took a sip of wine and set it down on the table. "Come on, Miranda. What's with the questions?"

"I am curious to understand. I've never been in a relationship like yours, never met anyone who has been in such a relationship." She left out that she had never been close enough to anyone before to really know what they were like personally. Before Shepard, she had been so focused on the professional, on her work, that other people were merely tools or variables she had to puzzle into her plans. "I'm not judging. I am just curious."

The commander nodded, in the way she did whenever she was mulling something over, considering her words carefully. "Liara is mine. And I am hers. She's my lover, my bondmate, my wife in practice, and simply mine, and what we share is…" She paused, and Miranda noticed her turning the leather bracelet fastened around her opposite wrist. "A promise. She promises to love, to trust, and obey. And I promise to love, to cherish, and to care for her." She smiled lopsidedly at Liara, who was gazing up at her with open adoration. "About right, love?"

"You left out the part where you enjoy having your way with me in whatever way you like, Commander." Liara said quietly, her face faintly lavender, but her smile purely mischievous.

If Miranda had been drinking, or eating, she might have choked. As it was, she carefully maintained her expression of polite attentiveness, which broke when she saw Shepard's jaw drop in astonishment, and she chuckled.

"Liara!" Shepard exclaimed, clearly torn whether to be more surprised or scandalized by the normally conservative asari. But she laughed, and then shrugged helplessly at Miranda. "Well… she's right."

"It seems you've had more of an influence on her than either of us thought, Shepard." Miranda commented, and the women fell silent as the waiter arrived with their main course. As he set the plates down, she thought of what Shepard had said. She had always loved Liara; it had been clear from the first time Miranda saw the two together, even though that first meeting on Illium had been tense, awkward. She had understood their unconventional relationship since Shepard first confided in her about it, but she wanted to hear it in their words, how they defined themselves.

She hadn't determined why it was important yet, beyond a natural curiosity. "How did you end up… in that sort of relationship?"

"It just sort of evolved naturally," It was Liara who spoke this time, since Shepard was busy chewing and waved the question off to her bondmate.

Swallowing, Shepard arched a brow. "Why? Want to join us, Miranda?" She teased, clearly hoping to needle past her former executive officer's unflappable composure. She had always loved teasing Miranda, who was always so proper, so reserved, but in a very different way than Liara.

"Who says I hadn't already considered it, Commander?" Miranda felt a thrill of triumph as Shepard's jaw dropped again, clearly not expecting to be teased back. Usually, she just rolled her eyes at the commander's antics, sighed heavily and ignored her, or at the most came back with a scathing remark. Even Liara seemed amused by the sudden turn of tables, and she patted Shepard's back sympathetically as she coughed.

"Okay. That's it. Enough of this before both of you make me choke on this steak dinner." Shepard gestured emphatically with her fork and knife. "Tonight is supposed to be about Liara and her lecture anyway, celebrating how much academic face she owned today."

Miranda smiled and reached for wine glass, holding it up. "Then to Liara, a beautiful and talented woman who is reinventing everything we thought we knew about our past." She paused as the other women held up their glasses, Liara a little shyly. "And, as Shepard so eloquently put it, owned academic face. May this be the first in a very long list of scholarly accolades."

The women drank, and Liara smiled at her, reaching for her hand across the table. "Thank you, Miranda. It means a lot to me coming from you." The warmth of the asari's skin was missed immediately as her hand was withdrawn. "Now, we've covered unconventional relationships and polygamous sexual activities. What else do humans consider polite dinner conversation?"


	7. Chapter Six

Rannoch was barren.

It was little more than an arid rock occasionally split by fertile areas along river banks, on the shores of lakes. Shepard saw none of those oases while she was on Rannoch. All she saw was wasteland.

The heat was oppressive. It was so hot that breathing felt nearly impossible, and Shepard fought hard for every breath, sucking in each inhalation with focused effort, as if she were trying to breathe inside an oven. It was as if she were suffocating, even though the atmosphere was entirely breathable. The sun glared spitefully at the planet below. The rocky, dusty ground below Shepard's feet only absorbed the sun's rays, meaning it felt as if she was being cooked from above and below.

There were no trees. No vegetation. Just brown rock and dust and sun. The landscape was empty, the only difference being elevation and varying rock formations. The breeze that blew was hot and only stirred up dust in clouds that washed over Shepard like waves breaking upon a beach.

She was sweating beneath her armor. Her face felt gritty with salt from her sweat, and her hair clung to the back of her neck. Dust had caked her face; Shepard had breathed it in and she could feel it coating the inside of her nostrils, in her mouth, between her teeth. Her helmet did nothing but make her hotter, and she was tempted to remove it just to alleviate some of her misery, but she didn't.

Shepard tried to spit, but her saliva was gummy. She was dehydrated; her eyes stung as sweat ran into them. She hated Rannoch. Why the Geth and Quarians fought over this forsaken bloody desert was beyond any comprehension.

And then there was shade.

For a moment, Shepard forgot everything and basked in the relative coolness of shadow, blocked from the torment of the sun. For a moment, there was no better feeling in the world than the moment's respite afforded by the Reaper's shadow.

The Reaper shifted on its many legs, and Shepard hoisted the targeting laser on her shoulder, feeling the familiar heft of its weight. She felt her finger slip through the trigger guard, her cheek resting on the stock of the weapon to sight it properly. It felt so familiar that the motion was automatic, as if she had done it a million times before. Patiently, she waited. The Reaper would prime its firing mechanism, flashing its weakness for just a moment. If she timed it correctly, the Fleet could target the Reaper before it could even fire its beam.

The metal casing slid back, revealing the glowing crimson eye as it surged, pulsing an electric red as it prepared to fire. The trigger depressed easily under Shepard's finger as the Reaper bellowed.

The sound was as indescribable as it was horrific. It wasn't a purely mechanical sound, but nor did it sound like anything organic either. It was terror personified; a sound that was felt as much as it was heard. It reverberated unspeakable horror, paralyzing inescapable fear in a deep primal, synthetic bugle. She felt its resonance in her body, in her bones, in her lungs, in her heart. She still felt its echo even after the Reaper fell silent.

The Reaper's call wasn't just death. It was something much worse than death. It was a death that one knew was unavoidable, but scrambled to flee from all the same, knowing the inevitable conclusion. It was a howl of extinction.

The Reaper's beam scythed through the air with the power of indiscriminate hate. Shepard had heard its call, seen the destruction the beams were capable of. How many had died the first few minutes on Earth? Buildings crumbled under the beam, great facades of glass and metal and concrete incinerated as if they were paper. Ships exploded as if their thick reinforced hulls were little more than aluminum foil. How could an organic body withstand such a force of devastation?

Shepard had seen on Earth that it couldn't. She had watched the scores of people fleeing for safety, running for a hope of sanctuary that didn't exist as the beam cut huge swathes through them. They were there, then they were gone. Men and women and children, families incinerated into ash and dust. Their last moments alive spent in futile terror, their last thoughts of panic.

The worst part was the powerlessness of it. There was no order, only chaos. The beam did not discriminate. It didn't care if you ran faster, if you dodged left or right, if you fled or hid or fought. There was no correct answer, no solution. Survival was based on chance. What could people do in such a situation when there was no option left to them, when nothing was the right thing to do, when no preparation or plan or defense could save them? A few lived. Many, many more died.

The scarlet white beam arced towards Shepard, plowing up the ground in front of her, showering her in chips of burning rock and dirt. Liara's voice called to her over the radio, but it was drowned out by another of the Reaper's petrifying bellows.

"Shepard!"

Shepard blinked. The sun was gone, casting her in darkness. She still felt sweat running down her shoulders and back, cooling, which wasn't right. Her skin felt too light without the weight of her armor. Her oddly empty hands clenched helplessly at fabric. She sat up abruptly, heart rioting in her chest. Several moments passed before she remembered that she was on Earth. There were no more Reapers. The war was over, and she was safe. She felt the warmth of a hand on her shoulder. Liara.

Throwing herself out of the bed, she lunged for the bathroom, only partially aware of her leg buckling underneath her. It didn't matter; she fell in reach of the toilet and pulled herself up in time to vomit. She was only vaguely aware of her physical surroundings. The porcelain of the toilet was cool beneath her forearms as she retched and spat. There was a hand on her back. The stain of hot tears on her face. The tile was hard beneath her knees.

She clutched at a wad of toilet paper and wiped her mouth before falling back against another something hard, the bathtub. Part of her mind registered all of the details. She was sitting on the bathroom floor of their hotel room. Liara knelt next to her. But in her mind, she was still on Rannoch. She was still standing in the cargo bay of the Normandy, watching Earth fall to the Reapers, watching a little boy die.

The memories were powerful, and as much as she tried to focus, she couldn't. She tried to pull one thing from her surroundings to focus on, one thing to convince herself that the present was real but the memories were too seductive, more real than reality.

Liara's voice swam to her as if through a fog. "Lissa… Shepard, you're not there anymore. You're here. It isn't real. You're here with me, and we're safe now." Gradually, the words became more and more plaintive, but Shepard could only hear the Reaper, feeling its noise in her chest. She slapped at the hands that grasped at her, trying to push them away, trying to fight off the panic that was grabbing at her.

Suddenly, she wasn't there anymore. Abruptly, Rannoch and Earth and the bathroom floor were replaced by feeling. Her heart slowed and her breathing steadied to a reasonable pace as warmth and reassurance enveloped her. She was okay. There was nothing to fear as Liara's love and affection washed over her, chasing away the panic and uncertainty. They were safe and happy, and nothing could harm them here. She wasn't there anymore. That was in the past, and it couldn't hurt her. She was with Liara, and the war was long over. There was nothing that could harm her on the floor of the bathroom, except for those horrid insects that humans called "cockroaches."

Gradually, Shepard returned to herself, freed from the lingering effects of her dreams. She yanked away from Liara, mentally rather than physically, and saw the asari's eyes fade from black to blue as the meld was broken.

"Don't you ever…" Shepard hissed through clenched teeth and realized she was sobbing. "…you ever do that again!" She tried to blink away the tears but they kept coming. Her eyes stung, but no amount of blinking held them back.

Liara acted as if she had not heard her, and smoothed her damp hair from her brow. "You're okay, Shepard."

The meld was too dangerous when she was like that; when all Shepard could feel was fear and panic, when she was completely lost to memory. She did not want Liara joining with her, even if it put her at ease. She did not want her lover to experience those emotions, see what she had seen. Liara wasn't fragile; she had seen her fair share of atrocity over the years, but Shepard was determined she not be subjected to any more.

Catching Liara's wrist in her hand, she held it tightly, forced her to look at her. "Don't do that again, Liara." Her jaw was still clenched. "I mean it, don't."

She knew Liara, knew the flash of defiance that crept into her eyes, and she prepared herself to argue. She would make it an order if she had to, but she could not bear for her lover to feel with her, to experience her nightmares, her memories. Liara opened her mouth to reply, but a subtle blue light interrupted them both.

Their eyes had already adjusted to the dark, so the subtle blue light was blinding as it approached. It bled into the bathroom from the bedroom, growing steadily stronger until Miranda appeared in the doorway, a sidearm leveled at both of them.

The other human's biotics snaked in visible wisps around her, like glowing water vapor, like fog rolling off the water. As her eyes settled on the two women on the bathroom floor, as she realized there was no danger, she lowered her weapon, and the biotics gradually faded like smoke dissipating. "Are you okay? My sensors went off, and I heard a shout."

Miranda had evidently leapt out of bed and reached for her sidearm, heedless of her state of undress. It was odd. Shepard thought she had been accustomed to seeing Miranda in civilian clothes, in anything other than that Cerberus uniform. But, it occurred to her that she had never seen her tie her hair back into a messy ponytail. And she would have never guessed that the perfect woman wore boxers to sleep.

"We're fine, Miranda. Shepard just had a nightmare." Liara gently tugged her wrist from Shepard's hand and stood. "I'm sorry we woke you."

Slowly, Miranda nodded. "Get her onto the bed. I'll grab my kit and make sure she's okay."

They both spoke as if she was incapable of answering for herself, which should have annoyed Shepard, but instead she found she was too exhausted to care. She allowed Liara to slip an arm under her shoulders, to help her to her feet. She hissed in pain as she put weight on her bad leg, but with Liara's assistance managed to limp back to the bed. "I'm fine, Liara."

The asari smiled and cupped her cheek leaning down to kiss her tenderly. "I know. But let Miranda check you out. You know how stubborn she can be."

"I'm not stubborn," Miranda responded as she returned into the room, the sidearm in her hand replaced with a small black leather bag. "I am responsible Shepard's medical care, and I believe in being thorough. Liara, will you get the lights?"

The lamp on the bedside table was blinding, and Shepard squeezed her eyes shut against the assault of the light. She felt hands on her face angling her towards the light, knew instinctively they were not Liara's hands. Fingers prodded the healing cut on her temple, felt at her neck for her pulse. "You still have sensors on me?" She opened her eyes, Miranda's face directly over hers.

"Of course I do." Her fingers danced over her omnitool as she scanned Shepard's body. "They are set to alert me if there is an abnormal fluctuation in your vitals. I am directly responsible for your medical well-being, Shepard. As I am sure I have told you a million times." There was a faint hint of annoyance in her voice, but Shepard found that familiar and strangely comforting. Miranda dropped to her knees and began scanning her bare leg. "You're putting too much stress on this leg. You need to take it easy."

Behind Miranda, Liara scoffed. "I heard that." Shepard frowned as Miranda bent her leg and then extended it, testing her range of motion, stopping when she felt resistance. "It's not like I've tackling krogan or chasing after geth. I've been walking." She could not help but snap irritably.

"Which you should not try to do without your cane," Miranda pointed out, and Shepard wanted to snap back at her but Liara moved beside her and placed a hand on the back of her neck as if she could read Shepard's mind, so she stayed silent. "I'm going to administer a mild sedative to help you sleep." She reached for her bag.

"I don't need a damn sedative." She hated being made to feel as if she were an invalid, incapable of caring for herself. She was fine, more or less.

"You need to rest, Shepard. Please." Liara's voice was soft, soothing. Her fingers toyed with the hair on the back of her neck in the way she knew Shepard loved. Her blue eyes were solemn, full of loving concern, and slowly, Shepard nodded. If it made her lover feel better this was a concession that she would make.

"Fine." Shepard grunted and held out her arm for Miranda and the syringe she held. She looked up at her lover, felt a pang of guilt that accompanied the pinch of the needle. "Thank you."

Liara's lips met hers gingerly. "You don't have to thank me for anything. I love you."

* * *

"How often does this happen?" Miranda whispered once Shepard was asleep again. She and Liara had closed the bedroom door behind them and sat on opposite sides of one of the couches in the lounge.

Liara rubbed her eyes with the back of her palm. "Not often. I think bringing her here, her seeing all the destruction… It wasn't a good idea." She should have realized that seeing the rubble, the chaos still left on Earth might trigger such a response in her lover. Once every couple of weeks she woke up crying, or screaming, depending on the nature of her nightmares. This had been the worst of it. Usually after a few calming words from Liara, the dream would relinquish its hold on Shepard and she would be… maybe not okay, but not trapped in another time, another reality.

Tonight, she had been forced to join with Shepard, to convince her that the dreams weren't real, that she was safe. What she had seen, felt in Shepard's mind was horrible, and she shivered with the thought of it. "Besides, you have sensors. Shouldn't you know?"

Slowly, Miranda nodded. "I wanted to hear what you thought. Usually, I can tell when she's just having a nightmare. It passes fairly quickly. Tonight her vitals were slower to return to normal." The human had tucked one of her legs underneath her, the other bent and held to her chest by looped arms. It made Miranda appear much younger, much more vulnerable than Liara ever remembered seeing her. "Are you okay?"

Liara laughed ruefully. "I never thought about it before. It hurts to see Shepard like this, to know she sacrificed so much of herself, that she still suffers so, just so we can all be here. But I've never thought about it; I just take care of her, do whatever I have to help her. It has reached a point that this is normal, and that is…" She thought for a moment. "…okay. I'll always do whatever I can to take care of her. I love her."

"And you truly are alright?" There was a note of concern in Miranda's voice that caught Liara off guard. Could she ever have envisioned a time when they cared about one another?

"Yes." Liara tilted her head to the side, smoothed the oversized t-shirt she wore for sleeping over her lap. Who would have imagined there would ever be a time when she and Miranda cared for one another, let alone would sit in their sleeping clothes in the middle of the night having an emotional conversation? "I never give it much thought, honestly. I suppose it is similar to Shepard. She never questioned what she had to do, she just did it and never wasted time doubting. Even now, if you asked her, I am sure she would tell you that she is satisfied with the way things turned out. It is not so different for myself. Or you, I imagine."

"That is true. But I am also aware of how… difficult the commander can be."

Liara smiled fondly. "Yes. She can be. Wishing you would have implanted that control chip, Miranda?" The perfect woman had the grace to look abashed, and had the light not been so dim, Liara might have thought she was blushing. "Yes, Shepard told me about it. And sometimes, I wish you had too."

Miranda's gaze snapped to her, disbelief clearly dancing in her brilliant blue eyes. When she realized that Liara had been only half-teasing, she laughed incredulously. "Interesting. Given the nature of your relationship."

"Just because she's my… owner," Liara faltered a bit over the word, still unaccustomed to talking so freely about her and Shepard's relationship with another person. "Does not mean we agree about everything. Or that she doesn't drive me absolutely crazy at times. Do you know I had to threaten to call you and Admiral Hackett once to get her to take her medicine?"

"I'm sure she appreciated that."

"You have no idea, Miss Lawson." Liara smiled faintly at the memory.

The cushions shifted under Miranda as she moved closer, next to Liara, seated sideways so that she was facing the asari. "Do you remember what I told you when we first pulled her from the rubble?"

Liara tilted her head to the side. She tried not to think about those days, much. When everyone was terrified, uncertain if the Reapers were really gone. It was as if the entire galaxy held its breath, waiting, not daring to hope. "I do," she responded slowly. "You told me that you would give her back to me, that I wasn't alone. We would get her back together."

Nodding, she reached for Liara's hand, initiating physical contact which was wholly unlike the former Cerberus operative. "That's still true," She said quietly. "You don't ever have to do this alone." Clearly uncomfortable by the sensitive turn the conversation had taken, Miranda persevered nonetheless. "I am here. For both of you. After the Reapers… I like to think that we share more than just Shepard."

It was true. However clumsy the declaration had been, Miranda had said she was Liara's friend. The early months of Shepard's recovery were a blur of procedures, of sleepless stretches, of desperate waiting, longing to see clear green eyes and that certain smile. Miranda's hand on her shoulder, her voice cutting through the haze, her honesty and diligence, the firm, grim line of her mouth as she worked. Liara squeezed Miranda's hand. "Thank you. Not just for Shepard, but for everything."

Eyes two different shades of blue met. "Come back with us. To the mountain. It would be nice to have you there, and I know Shepard likes having you around. It might… help her. I know she misses not having the squad, a crew."

"To that horrid little cabin?"

"Yes," Liara smiled and patted Miranda's bare knee. "And you can explain the odd human fascination with this 'plaid.'"

 


	8. Chapter Seven

There was a portion of the city which had been cleared of debris, at least partially. The streets were cleared and passable. The buildings that could be salvaged had been and were restored enough to be functional once again. Those that were damaged beyond repair had been knocked down, and new structures were taking form in their place. There were a few that were completed, but dozens more stood in various states of completion from empty foundations to bare frames to nearly finished.

The sidewalks were mostly clear, and Shepard knocked any stray bits of concrete or metal from her path with her cane. Not all massive piles of debris and rubble had been trucked away. Some of it remained on the side of the street in great heaps. With a rebuilding effort so massive, it would take years for everything to appear normal again.

The streets were mostly empty. Occasionally a military vehicle would rumble past or, more rarely, a civilian car. There were people out, but most of them were workers either clearing more wreckage away or constructing the new buildings, repairing the old. They passed one family on their walk, a young mother and a small child. Shepard tried not to wonder how many of their family had not survived the war.

It was one blessing of the Reapers. Those caught in the beam were incinerated. There were few bodies to clear away once it was all over, except those killed as buildings collapsed around them or by Reaper ground troops. As it was, there were still bodies trapped in the concrete tombs of destroyed buildings. Thankfully, enough time had passed that the bodies were long decomposed and any lingering smell of death was stifled by the unseasonably cool weather.

"Are you alright, Shepard?" Liara asked, her arm looped through Shepard's.

The commander nodded. The sedative from the previous night still lingered in her system, making her feel slow and sluggish. Her limbs felt heavier, leaden. She remembered feeling like this when she first awoke on the Alliance Fleet vessel, although then it had been much worse. Then she hadn't been able to lift her head without assistance. "Mmm. I don't see why we have to go get more medicine. I have a million bottles of the stuff at home."

"You didn't have to come. I told you I could get it, or Miranda offered as well."

"We're leaving tomorrow. The meds are 'as needed.' I think I could have toughed it out for a day."

"You were the one who packed three separate sex toys but not enough medicine." Liara dropped her voice, even though there was no one near enough to hear them, and Shepard grinned and shrugged helplessly. "You are shameless."

As if emphasizing Liara's point, she dropped her free hand to the asari's rear and pinched. "You knew that when we met, and I corrupted your pure, innocent asari maidenhood."

"Oh, hush." Liara nudged her playfully with her shoulder. "We should be almost there, Miranda said it was—"

Shepard abruptly held her hand out in a gesture that Liara immediately recognized from their many missions together and fell silent, hand instinctively reaching inside her lab coat. The sound that had drawn her attention was faint, a barely audible scratching from the alley beside them. Out of habit, she pushed Liara behind her and advanced into the darkened alley. Stone crunched under her feet, and she cursed mentally. She did not realize how naked she felt without armor, unarmed as she reached over her shoulder for a weapon and grasped futilely at nothing.

"Shepard!" Liara whispered harshly as the commander continued her advance, turning to cover back, eyes darting left and right, scanning for hostiles. The small pistol she kept secreted under her lab coat felt odd in her hands, the slick metal cool against her palms. The action felt natural to her body; she had fought alongside Shepard for years. But that seemed so long ago, and the thrill-fear of combat tasted differently now, less of acceptance and more of fear.

Her lover was in no condition to fight. And the past year had bred complacency in them both, Liara realized. Without fighting, without constant threat, Liara felt safe and assured. Not so long ago, the two of them would not have dreamed of walking down any street without armor and weapons.

There was no movement on the street, nothing to denote any danger of any kind. But Liara knew to trust the commander's instincts. If she called for silence, there was a reason for it. She whirled at the wholly uncharacteristic sound that escaped her lover, a half-squeal, half-coo. Shepard was on her knees, cane on the ground beside her, hunched over. Liara felt bile rise up in her throat and advanced quickly, her pistol seeking out the nearest target.

But Shepard turned on her knees, her face split by a broad grin instead a grimace of pain. "Look!"

Liara did, and what she saw was not altogether reassuring. She had watched the nature vids showcasing the native wildlife of Earth. "Goddess, Shepard! Put it down!" She did not lower her weapon. The lethal predator that Shepard cradled in her arms was an infant, smaller than Liara would have expected one to be, but that could only mean its parent was close by. And she had seen how a fully-grown tiger could easily take down another animal twice its size.

Shepard quirked a brow, bewildered by her lover's distress. "It isn't going to hurt me, Liara. It's a kitten. Lower your weapon." As if to affirm the commander's words, the little ball of orange fur mewed.

"Infant animals are often accompanied by their parents. Goddess, Shepard. You grew up on this planet; you've seen what an adult tiger can do, and you have one of its young in your arms!" Liara warily glimpsed down the alley way, searching for any sign of the baby tiger's parent. Shepard could be reckless at times, but this was far even for her.

Understanding bled through confusion, and Shepard laughed. "It isn't a tiger, Liara. It's a cat. The adult version of this is no bigger than…" Her brow knitted together as she tried to find a comparison that Liara would understand. "A baby varren." She held up the little creature for her to see more closely. "See?"

The animal was painfully small. Tiny enough to fit in a single hand. Upon closer examination, Liara realized that its coloring and markings were different from those she had seen on the vids. It was marbled orange, with stripes of a paler orange instead of black. Its little canines were only fierce in the sense they were adorable, and did not seem capable of ripping apart a wad of tissue, let alone another animal. It twitched its nose and whiskers at the asari, as if sniffing her, and then mewed again.

"Here, take him." Shepard thrust the kitten into her hands, and Liara fumbled with her sidearm before managing to get it back in its holster so she could cradle the animal like she had seen Shepard do. It was surprisingly soft, its hair an even softer texture than that on Shepard's head. The fur also gave the illusion that the already tiny animal was bigger than it was, but holding it, she could feel how slight and fragile its body was.

Dusting off her trousers, Shepard straightened and adjusted her cane before offering to take the kitten back. She bent her free arm so the animal settled comfortably against her; it rumbled like something mechanical and began kneading into Shepard's jacket with its forefeet, sucking at the stiff fabric. The expression on her lover's face was one of tenderness, her smile oddly affectionate. It was the same expression she wore whenever speaking to children: infinitely patient, gentle. The sight of it caused Liara's heart to swell with adoration even though she thought it strange that Shepard would look at an animal that way.

"What do we do with it?" Liara asked as they stepped out of the shaded alley onto the sidewalk again.

"We keep it."

"What? Keep a wild animal? Why would we do such a thing?"

"It isn't a wild animal, Liara." Shepard began walking in the direction of the Alliance supply depot. "It's a cat; they're domesticated. Pets."

The notion of a "pet" wasn't a purely human one. Plenty of species kept animals for a variety of reasons, but the concept was still somewhat puzzling to Liara. A pet did not serve a function, to her knowledge. It was not utilitarian. But, so far there were a dozen things that she still did not completely understand about humans, and she had learned to accept them until she could find an adequate explanation for them. She supposed this might be one of those things. "We're keeping it?"

"Think about it, Liara. Somehow, this kitten's parents managed to survive the Reaper war in this city when most people didn't. Then, he managed to be born and survive amidst all this…" Shepard did not finish her sentence; instead, she jerked her head in the direction of a heap of wreckage that had yet to be collected off the street. "And besides it is cute."

"As you wish, Commander." Liara replied, still uncertain.

Leaning over, Shepard kissed Liara's temple. "I know asari are monogendered so the concept of "lesbian" is totally alien to you, Liara, but it is how I think of myself. Think of it like… a long lost civilization you are unearthing and learning about."

Liara smiled at the ghost of lips against her skin and moved closer to her lover, wrapping her fingers under her upper arm and pulling her close. Shepard had attempted to explain concepts of human sexuality to her before. Humans mysteriously divided themselves on who they were attracted to, what practices they enjoyed, and the various states of sexual development. Though the word meant nothing to Liara, Shepard identified herself as a "lesbian," or exclusively attracted to other women. "I don't see how that is relevant to… anything at all, Shepard."

"Of course it's relevant!" The kitten had fallen asleep, nuzzled into Shepard's armpit. "Because it's part of our culture. Ask any lesbian, and they'll agree. We are certain to love two things. Plaid flannel. And cats." The asari had absolutely no intention on asking any other lesbian whether or not this was true, but she didn't say so. Shepard tilted her head to the side, her brow deeply furrowed as the thought. "And seafood. So three things, really."


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: This chapter is almost complete D/s lifestyle stuff. So if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable... how the hell have you made it this far in the story? It's chapter eight for the love of Pete!

It was midafternoon when they returned to the hotel. Miranda was waiting for them on the couch facing the door, legs crossed and datapad in her lap. She glimpsed up, then back down at the datapad, slender fingers skimming the screen. "Did you find it alright? Did you get Shepard's medication?"

The couple sat on the sofa across from her, Shepard dropping down unceremoniously and Liara settling down and crossing her legs in a manner much more dignified. "We did. Your directions were flawless, Miranda," Liara answered; Shepard was preoccupied with the kitten in her arms, ticking through a long list of possible names. The kitten swatted at her fingers and mewled his protest as she extricated him from her jacket and set him on her lap.

Miranda glanced up again, and this time her steel blue eyes narrowed at Shepard and the ball of orange fur on her lap. "What is that?"

"It's a kitten." Shepard wiggled her fingers so that he attacked, swiping futilely with his tiny paws.

Her former executive officer sighed heavily, as if merely interacting with Shepard exhausted her. "I am aware of that, Shepard. It was a rhetorical question, which doesn't require an answer which you very well knew in the first place. What is it?"

"Oh. Well." Unable to resist further baiting her friend, Shepard lifted the kitten and held him up so that Miranda could get a better look at him and grinned. "It's a rhetorical kitten."

Liara smiled, but took pity on Miranda. "Shepard found him in an alley on our way to the supply depot. She insists on keeping it. As a pet. She claims it is of important cultural significance to her people."

"Important cultural significance?" Miranda repeated, bewildered and wondering if her translator was functioning correctly. There were often miscommunications and misunderstandings between different species, nuances of culture and social activity that did not quite translate. It was particularly difficult to decipher whether or not Liara was misunderstanding something that Shepard had told her, or if Miranda was misunderstanding the asari's phrasing.

"Lesbian." Shepard explained.

"Oh, God." Miranda powered down her datapad, rolled her eyes. "Before this conversation becomes any more ridiculous, and before I forget, I arranged for the shuttle to pick us up at noon."

"Us?" The commander blinked and cocked her head to the side.

Miranda glanced at Liara and then shifted a bit uncomfortably. "I, ah… I thought Liara had discussed it with you."

Frowning, Shepard stopped petting the kitten on her lap and glanced at her lover, who appeared equally uncomfortable. She did not like being confused, and she liked it even less when she seemed to be the only person who did not understand what was going on. "Discussed what?"

"I invited Miranda to stay with us at the cabin for a while. I meant to discuss it with you." Liara folded her hands in her lap.

"Liara." She said her lover's name almost like a reprimand, the way she did when she was not truly displeased and was giving her a chance to explain herself or rectify the situation before she did become displeased. It was the same way she said her name whenever Liara was being bull-headed about speaking to Aethyta, her father, for the first time.

The only thing the asari said in her defense, however, was: "It slipped my mind; I truly meant to discuss it with you."

"If it is an intrusion, I don't have to come, Shepard." Miranda said, clearly feeling the awkwardness of the moment. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts, scratched her collarbone. It was a gesture that Shepard recognized long ago as telling of Miranda's discomfort.

"No, Miranda. I promise it isn't you. I would love if you were to come home with us. I think it is a great idea." Shepard said quickly, hoping to put the other human at ease.

"If it makes either of you uncomfortable—"

Liara was the one to interrupt her this time. "It isn't you, Miranda. I should have discussed it with Shepard first or at least talked about it with her afterwards. And I didn't. That is the problem. Not you staying with us."

"It'll be like the old days, and I can interrupt you every five minutes so you can't get anything done." Shepard grinned and placed the kitten in between herself and Liara. The kitten protested at being moved off her lap, but kneaded the couch cushions a few times before lying down and falling back asleep.

Miranda had raised both her brows. "Oh. Wonderful," She replied sarcastically. "Are you certain, though? I don't want to cause any… conflict." She glimpsed meaningfully at Liara, then Shepard again.

"There is no conflict, Miranda. And least of all, none that involves you. Liara is correct. It isn't that she asked you to the cabin. I think that's a great idea; it's that she did so without discussing it with me first." Shepard had placed her hand on Liara's shoulder, and the wave of dread curled into tight ball in the asari's stomach. "Liara and I just need to have a discussion."

Miranda nodded thoughtfully, shifted as if to stand up. "I'll leave you two—"

"No," Shepard shook her head vehemently. "I think it would be best if you stayed, Miranda. If you're coming back with us, and I want you to if you're still agreeable to it, I think it's best if you're… aware of how Liara and I handle things." Slowly, Miranda nodded and sunk back down into the couch, and Shepard examined her own folded hands. "You know both of us extremely well, and understand our lifestyle to an extent. I don't see any reason that anything should change when we go home."

Liara's face burned, but she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground at her feet. Dread had settled like a weight of lead on her diaphragm, and her heart constricted painfully in her chest. She could feel Shepard's eyes on her, but she said nothing. She hated feeling like this, more than anything. Knowing she had upset Shepard, disappointed her, was worse than anything she had suffered at the hands of the Reapers.

Shepard wasn't angry at her, although Liara almost wished that she was. Shepard had only gotten truly angry with her twice before, and while neither was an occurrence she wished to repeat, anger was always easier to deal with. It was the calm patience that Liara felt so maddening. Shepard never yelled, never raised her voice. She was patient and firm, always explaining herself and the root of her displeasure.

Having Shepard so calm and understanding only made Liara feel worse.

It had been that way before she had even accepted Shepard's collar, before they had been lovers even. One disapproving glimpse from the commander was enough to make her fall silent, to desist whatever she had been doing to earn that disapproval. Even her name, said in the right tone, was enough of a reprimand.

What made it worse at the moment was that Miranda was witness to their disagreement. Liara kicked herself mentally. She should have known better than to simply invite Miranda home with them without discussing it with Shepard first. And had she brought it up to Shepard and talked about it before, it would not have caught the commander off guard, and she wouldn't have been upset.

But honestly, she had forgotten.

It wasn't the first time Liara had been reprimanded by Shepard in front of others, but then it seemed like a casual thing: a commander correcting one of her crew. But Miranda knew the nature of their relationship, and even though Shepard had been gentle about it, even though the other human never seemed to judge either of them for their unconventional relationship, Liara felt the heat of embarrassment on her face, the shame of breaking one of Shepard's rules compounded by the fact that a third party was present. If she knew the commander at all, she probably counted on that and was using it as a lesson, as part of her punishment.

She wished Shepard would end the silence, say something, even if it was to scold her. "Commander—"

"Listen to me, Liara. I'm not mad, and honestly, I'm not even truly upset." Shepard began firmly, as if they were alone, and Liara realized exactly how serious Shepard had been about Miranda's presence not changing anything. "But that was a large decision, and we agreed that when you accepted my collar we'd make decisions like that together."

"I know." Liara yearned to reach out and touch her lover, to feel the comfort of physical contact, but she knew better to reach out when she was being lectured. Shepard rarely, if ever, gave a command or made a decision without consulting Liara or explaining herself. It wasn't who she was. They made decisions together, with Shepard having the final say. Shepard was right to correct her; Liara had broken what she herself had agreed to, and she was more angry with herself than anything. "I just didn't think about it."

Shepard shifted forward on the edge of the sofa. "Come here."

Liara inhaled deeply and complied. She stood and moved in front of her lover, head held confidently high to mask her trepidation and waited. Shepard took her hand and tugged. Liara felt herself pulled into Shepard's lap, strong arms wrapping around her waist. She dropped her forehead to Shepard's shoulder, grateful for the comfort of closeness, of touch. "I'm sorry." She murmured with conviction.

"I know, my love, but I don't want you to apologize to me. I want you to apologize to Miranda." Shepard shifted her shoulder so that Liara lifted her head and looked at her. "You invited her without my permission, and when I was caught off guard, I probably made her feel as if she wasn't wanted. Which is far from the truth. I think you owe her an apology."

For the first time, Miranda made her presence known, shaking her head and shifting uncomfortably. "Shepard, that really isn't—"

"Miranda." Liara startled a little at Shepard's "command voice." It wasn't particularly louder or sharper than any of her other tones, but it was just a hint different enough from her normal, husky speaking voice that the asari could immediately detect the shift. Surprisingly, Miranda seemed to recognize it as well, and even more astonishing, she did not protest or argue, which Liara would have expected. Instead, she slowly nodded.

Liara felt Shepard's arms loosen around her waist, and she stood and crossed the small gap between the couches to Miranda. For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if she should drop into a kneeling position as a gesture of submission, the way she did whenever formally apologizing to Shepard. Instead, she sat next to the other human, reached for her hand. "I really am sorry, Miranda," She inhaled deeply and prepared herself, knowing that an apology was not acceptable by itself, without an explanation of what she was apologizing for. "I should have talked to Shepard about it, so it wouldn't seem like she, or we, do not want you around. I'm sorry you were drawn into this."

Miranda smiled reassuringly and intertwined their fingers together. "Apology accepted, Liara." She cocked her head to the side. "And don't worry; I've seen Shepard scream bloody murder at some of the Cerberus crew. This was nothing." Liara felt her stomach unknot itself a bit, grateful for Miranda's kindness.

"That is a lie! I never yell." Shepard protested, crossing her arms over her chest in mock sternness. "Miranda isn't allowed to come if all you two are going to do is gang up against me."

Ignoring her former commander, Miranda waved her hand dismissively. "Shepard is very lucky to have you, Liara."

"I don't deserve her." Liara said, shyly ducking her head at the compliment. She was used to Shepard saying such things; she was unaccustomed to hearing them from anyone else, let alone a woman who was regarded by the majority of the galaxy as flawless.

"What atrocity could you possibly have committed to deserve Shepard inflicted on you?" Miranda said dryly and rolled her eyes pointedly.

"Okay, that's it. Liara!" Shepard waved the asari back over to her couch. "Away from Miranda and her damn corruptive influence."

"Yes, Commander." Liara replied, trying to suppress the smile dancing on her lips.

"Ah," Shepard said, more solemnly this time and pulled her lover back into her lap. "No "commander," no "ma'am" until we are home. To remind you of the agreement we made when you accepted my collar." Shepard placed her hand in the small of her back. "And so you remember to talk to me when you make decisions like that again."

Liara bit her lower lip and nodded her acceptance rather than replying verbally, not trusting herself not to say the "yes, ma'am" that came completely naturally to her whenever Shepard gave her a command, an instruction. This was her punishment, and as much as she hated it, part of her already felt better. Dread was replaced by determination not to disappoint Shepard again, to accept it and make her lover, her owner proud.

It might seem strange to other people, and part of her wondered if Miranda understood. But it was what she agreed to when she accepted Shepard's collar, and it was not a decision she took lightly. Neither of them did. She trusted, and wanted, Shepard to hold her accountable for her actions. It was reassuring to know that whatever she did, whatever happened that her lover would catch her, never let her fall. She felt a sense of boundless relief when there were consequences for her actions.

As much as she hated the idea of not addressing Shepard by a title of respect, as much she detested the distance it set between them as owner and owned, she understood the purpose behind it. The idea of disappointing or angering Shepard and not being disciplined for it, of not being granted immediate absolution, was unthinkable and horrible to Liara. To just have her angry and not atone?

Liara kissed the corner of Shepard's mouth gingerly, touched her fingers to the leather band still adorning the commander's wrist. "As you wish… Shepard."

 


	10. Chapter Nine

"Miri!" It was always odd to see a younger version of herself on the vidcom, no matter how many times Miranda convinced herself she was accustomed to it. When Oriana had been a toddler, the resemblance had been harder to spot. All two-year-olds invariably looked like miniature pudgy, misshapen adults anyway. Their hair had been the same raven black then, and their eyes the same cold pale blue, but that is where the similarities had stopped.

Now that Oriana was fully grown, an adult, it was easy to see the identical genetic markers. Same mouth, same high cheekbones, same chin, same voice, although Oriana's accent was considerably less pronounced than Miranda's. Oriana wore her hair shorter and straighter than Miranda had ever worn hers, but it appeared as if she had been growing it out lately. And her smile was much less reserved, more ready than Miranda felt hers had ever been.

"Ori, how are you?" Communication between them had been sporadic at best with so many systems ravaged by the war and the rebuilding effort so intense. But sometimes, Miranda could manage to pull a few strings to have a call put through to the colony of Sill, where Oriana was assisting in the rebuilding effort.

Her little sister grinned. "I'm good. There is so much work here; I feel like we'll never be done. But I like it, makes me feel like I'm really accomplishing something." The smile faded abruptly, and Oriana's brow knitted together in confusion as she peered over Miranda's shoulder. "Where are you?"

Miranda glimpsed over her shoulder at the plaid curtains covering the window behind her, at the rustic wooden walls. The communications room had once been a spare bedroom in the cabin, converted whenever the commander and Liara took up residence. She sighed. "I'm in a cabin. Shepard's place."

"Oh." Oriana squinted at the curtains before returning her gaze back to her sister. "Don't tell the commander I said so, but those things are hideous."

"Well," Miranda could not help but smile, pleased. "It appears good taste is genetic. And don't worry; I've already told her they're atrocious."

"Is Shepard alright?" The hint of concern was unmistakable. "I mean… would you be there if she was?" Oriana worried her lower lip between her teeth, a habit they did not share.

Miranda crossed her arms over her chest, scratched her collarbone absently as she decided how best to answer. She knew that Shepard and Oriana had kept in contact via extranet messages since the whole mess on Illium, and surprisingly, it had been her sister that initiated contact. Miranda had the distinct feeling that Shepard kept in contact for Miranda's sake more than anything, because it simply seemed like something she would do. But whether or not they had been in contact recently she was not sure. "She is recovering well, physically but there have been complications. Emotionally, she is still struggling. But for someone who has died, twice almost, her third shot at life is going well."

Oriana blinked on the vidcom screen and narrowed her eyes, shrewdly, and Miranda belatedly remembered that they shared the same intelligence potential. "Then why are you there?"

"Because they invited me."

"Who are 'they?'"

"Commander Shepard and her lover, Liara T'soni." While it wasn't exactly a secret, Shepard went to great lengths to ensure her private life was kept separate from her professional life. Miranda was not surprised Oriana did not know.

"Oh." Oriana tilted her head, as if disappointed, which did not make sense, and Miranda was certain she had mistaken surprise for disappointment. "Are you settling in, then?"

"You know, I called to see how you were doing, not the other way around." Miranda smiled. Part of her had always wondered what it would have been like to have a younger sibling. She had been a teenager when Ori was just a baby, and her father had isolated her from any other children when she was younger. She supposed that this was what having a younger sister was supposed to be like, her incessant questions, her persistent inquisitiveness into Miranda's personal life.

She had settled in well, surprisingly well, and even more quickly. She had not expected it to be that way, not really. There was bound to be some awkwardness of transition as she struggled to adjust to the schedules and habits of two other people, but there was very little transition at all. She had assimilated seamlessly into life at the cabin, despite her aversion to the primitive appearance of the décor.

Her room was not specifically to her tastes, but very little about the cabin was. That was merely aesthetics, though. The bed was comfortable, even if the sheets were ugly. The antique dresser was spacious enough for all of her clothes, and she had a private bathroom with a luxurious over-sized tub. The window beside her bed overlooked the mountain, and in the morning she often saw chipmunks skittering back and forth between the trees.

She and Liara now shared the bedroom which had been converted into a sort of office. A table had been moved from another room to make a desk for her and when they worked, it was mostly in silence with occasional breaks of conversation or discussions on their respective work. Shepard rarely interrupted them, except to inform them of incoming vidcom calls or announce meals.

After working with commander for so long aboard the Normandy, Miranda had thought there would be very little adjustment between the two of them. But then she had been Commander Shepard, now she was much more… Lissa.

Commander Shepard always woke early to scan mission briefs and intelligence reports in the CIC. Lissa was up early to brew coffee and cook breakfast in bright red pajama pants and a tank top; she cooked every meal, ensuring that her lover and house guest broke from their work to eat regularly. The domestic side of the commander was something she had not anticipated but found… charming in its strangeness.

Nights were spent around the fire place that she insisted on lighting every evening. They talked, trading stories. Sometimes they played chess or checkers from an old set they found in one of the closets. Occasionally, they watched the news on the extranet, the latest on the rebuilding efforts. There were evenings when Shepard wanted to sit out on the front porch and watch the stars, almost as if she were longing for them again. They would say goodnight, retire to their respective bedrooms.

Life with Shepard and Liara was blissfully easy, as if Miranda had always been there. But she could not tell Oriana that. Oriana as perceptive as she was; it would lead to questions that she did not have an answer for. So instead, she asked Ori about work, about the colony, and hoped her sister accepted the deflection without prying. She did, and they spent the next half hour talking until they said their good-byes.

Miranda checked her extranet messages, skimming the important ones. By the time she was finished, her coffee was cold.

* * *

The grim look of concentration that painted Shepard's strong features was one that Miranda was familiar with.

It did not seem so long ago that she had watched silently from the doorway of the briefing room, unwilling to disturb Shepard who seemed so engrossed that she was completely unaware of her executive officer's presence.

Her hands had been planted on the table, and she leaned forward over the rolls of paper diagrams and schematics she preferred over digital or holographic models. She was wearing her uniform, stiffly pressed, sleeves neatly rolled to her elbows, trousers starched and creased. Whenever she wasn't in armor, Shepard always preferred to appear like a military commander, which, at first, had annoyed Miranda who was accustomed to Cerberus's loose command structure. It seemed like an unnecessary assertion of authority until she actually knew Shepard. She adopted the Cerberus uniform quickly enough, but had removed all traces of Cerberus insignia.

Her mouth was set in a thin, grim line as she scrutinized the maps in front of her, only the smoldering green of her eyes moving as they flicked back and forth deliberately. They followed something on the page and then shifted to follow another path. Creases furrowed her forehead and her eyebrows knit together, not in a frown but in an expression of utter concentration. Barely perceptible was the shift of her mouth as she chewed the inside of her cheek, which Miranda had long since recognized as a habit indicating the commander was in the deepest thought.

Shepard did not glance up at the sound of Miranda's voice, informing her that they were nearing the Omega 4 Relay. In fact, she only responded with a terse, "Very well," and continued scanning the papers in front of her, giving Miranda the impression that she knew all along that she had been watching her.

It was amazing that she could seem so completely engrossed in thought, enveloped by concentration, yet still completely aware of everything around her. Many times Miranda had caught her wearing the expression during combat, seemingly detached from the chaos around her. Her face would be smudged with soot and dirt, hair unkempt and clinging with sweat to her brow, cheek pressed against the stock of her sniper rifle. Her focus seemed so singular as she scanned for a target. The rifle would recoil violently against her shoulder, but it never seemed to phase the commander, who was already scanning for her next target and warning her squad mates to take cover because there were rockets incoming.

She had been refreshing her cup of coffee when she glimpsed through the window over the kitchen sink and saw Shepard seated on the front porch, an actual book unfolded in one hand and a pencil in the other. Occasionally, she made notes on the small pad of paper perched on her knee. Her brow twisted in the familiar way, and Miranda remembered all the times she had watched her wear that expression.

It was as comforting as it was odd. The Reapers had come and had been defeated. But not without terrible cost. Entire worlds had been decimated, others lay barren and lifeless, the ruins still smoking without anyone to put out the fires. Whole worlds had burned. Families had been torn apart, entire peoples wiped out; it would take centuries for the galaxy's population to recover to pre-Reaper levels.

And one woman had been crippled, her leg mangled so severely that not even Miranda could fix it, not even cybernetic implants or advanced surgical technology could mend it. The rest of it, the destruction of worlds, the near extinction of species, was too enormous and abstract for her to really accept. It seemed too large, too distant to let it affect her. But the suffering of one woman Miranda could witness and understand the emotional and physical toll of everything the Reapers had wrought. And it was devastating. It wrenched something in her chest every time she saw her commander falter or stumble, and the unfairness of it was infuriating. Shepard had saved the world, and yet her reward was to spend the rest of her life broken and in pain, a shattered fragment of the soldier she had once been.

But when she saw the quiet concentration written on her face, Miranda felt reassured. It was still the same Shepard, who preferred tangible paper under her fingertips rather than the clinical indifference of holographic screens and datapads. Still the same Shepard who wrote in a horrendously illegible script when she took notes. The same Shepard who would continue to drink her coffee long after it had gone cold.

Liara had slipped beside her at the kitchen sink, followed her gaze out the window to Shepard. The braided leather necklace she had worn in the city had been replaced by a collar, and Miranda admired, not for the first time, how striking the contrast the black leather was against her blue skin. She averted her attention back to the commander. "What is she doing?"

"Studying." Liara smiled and crossed behind Miranda to the coffee pot. "She says that now she actually has the time, she can continue her education."

"Education?" Miranda frowned and turned away from the window, leaning back against the counter to watch the asari pour her own coffee. She knew Shepard's dossier better than almost anyone, her professional biography, assignments, history; Cerberus was thorough in providing information on its projects. Shepard had completed an undergraduate degree in literature during her first years with the Alliance, which Miranda found surprisingly common for a woman so outstanding in every other way.

Liara nodded and stirred sugar into her cup. "She wants to continue her advanced education."

"Graduate studies?"

"I believe that is what it is called, yes." Liara affirmed, adding a leveled spoon of sugar to her cup. "I believe she does not feel she can return to duty, or does not wish to. She has not said as much, but… after everything…" She folded her hands around her mug as if warming them.

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, Miranda sighed. "I know, but speaking of which, I received a message from Admiral Hackett. The Alliance is placing pressure on him to obtain a more thorough debriefing from Shepard."

That was the sanitized version of a heated message exchange between the Alliance officer and the former Cerberus operative. He understood Miranda's objections, that it exposed the commander to unnecessary strain and anxiety, having to relive the details that already haunted her dreams. But no longer under the immediate threat of extinction, the Alliance wanted more details, more perspective on the Reaper invasion. And who better to give them that perspective than the Commander Shepard?

Liara blinked. "I do not understand. Why? They have interviewed the surviving crew members. They know what happened." The asari was distressed and she set her coffee mug down with a clank, the still steaming pale brown liquid splashing onto the counter. "It is not enough that Commander Shepard saved not only the human race but also the entirety of sentient life. They wish to make her endure every torturous moment of the past years?" Her arms crossed over her chest, and Liara glimpsed out the kitchen window at her lover, who still sat on the porch, oblivious.

When she continued, her voice was constricted with tears that she did not shed, and Miranda was not sure if they were from anger or sadness. "Does Admiral Hackett intend to be here when the commander wakes from another night terror? Will he hold her until she is no longer paralyzed by terror? Will he be there when the fear subsides and her sobs become so violent that she retches? Will he clean her of the vomit and assure her that everything will be okay? Will he lie to her and tell her that one day everything will be normal again?"

Unable to be an indifferent witness to the asari's sorrow, Miranda instinctually reached for her and pulled her into an embrace that surprised the both of them. And she felt, rather than saw, Liara's tears begin to flow, a wetness against her neck. "They cannot ask this of her. She has given so much already. And yet they ask more of her. Will it ever be enough?"

"I'm sorry, Liara." Miranda murmured, one hand rubbing the asari's back in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "I agree. It is too much, and I have no desire or intention to exposing Shepard to any more pain. I won't let them do that to her. I didn't mean to upset you by bringing this up. I am sorry."

Liara rested her forehead on Miranda's shoulder, did not pull away. Closeness with other people was not something she was readily familiar with. Touch was fine; she was human after all. But the intimacy of comforting another person was surprising. She was very conscious of the weight against her shoulder, the warmth of their bodies together, the steady pace of her breathing, the slight hum of vibration she felt in her body with Liara's voice. "It is not your fault, Miranda. It is the Alliance. I just cannot believe they would ask her to do this. Not now. Not when… not when it is so fresh for her."

"That is why I told him no." Although the argument had been very back and forth between the two, with many accusations and much bargaining. "He agreed to get the Alliance to let Shepard in peace if I would see if—" The former executive officer exhaled. She hated having to ask this of Liara. Some of Shepards wounds were hers as well. "if you would give an account. You're the closest one to her; you were with her on nearly every mission."

A breath passed, and then another. When Liara's shoulders shook, Miranda thought the tears had begun again, but when Liara finally pulled away, she was laughing softly. "So I am second choice?" With relief, Miranda returned her smile and dropped her hands from the asari's sides, breaking contact by taking a step back. "How can I say no if it will spare Shepard any amount of pain?"

How could any person? "Thank you, Liara. I will let the admiral know." And in turn, he could tell the rest of the Alliance to piss off for all Miranda cared. "And we can begin whenever you are comfortable with it."

"Comfortable with what?" Shepard asked, hobbling into the kitchen, coffee cup in her free hand. As she neared, she saw the streaks on Liara's face, the stiffening of Miranda's posture. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" Her brow knit together as she glimpsed between the two women. It was unlikely the two quarreled. That could not be it. But Liara was plainly upset, and Miranda refused to meet her eyes, which was utterly unlike her former executive officer.

"I'm fine." Liara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I… I was upset, angry. Admiral Hackett asked Miranda to ask you questions… about the war, but Miranda told him it would be better to interview me, instead. I am fine. I promise." She smiled as if to prove to her lover that she was truly okay, reached out to rub her reassuringly on the arm.

Shepard abandoned her coffee mug on the counter next to Liara's, took her hand. While the war was the last thing she wanted to discuss, while the mention of it still made her chest seize in panic, she would suffer it all over again if it meant sparing Liara. She hated the idea of her lover sacrificing herself to protect her from pain. "I don't want you to do it if you don't want to."

"I would never ask Liara to do this unless she was comfortable with it," Miranda said.

"I know you wouldn't, Miranda. Are you sure you want to, Liara?"

The asari nodded, still smiling faintly. "The truth is, Commander, while no one escaped this war without scars, you bear the majority of them." Shepard found solace in the second blue hand that joined its twin to envelop her own. "I will be fine. In fact, I…" She hesitated and ducked her head, almost shyly. "I was going to ask… if I might join with Miranda, share my mind and memories with her so she could have what information she needed for Admiral Hackett without the interviews. It might also grant her a better perspective as well. But I am yours, commander. I…"

Melding was not necessarily sexual. In fact, the first few times that she and Liara had joined it had been purely for the sharing of the Cipher, for the exchange of minds, memories. It had been intimate but not erotic. Still, Shepard was surprised by the request, and still more surprised that it did not bother her in the slightest. Leaning forward, she kissed the crest of Liara's head, using her cane for balance. She trusted Liara with all of her existence, and in turn, she trusted her former second-in-command nearly as much.

Miranda shifted uncomfortably under Shepard's eyes, scratching her collarbone in that nervous habit. "It's okay, Miranda. She's not asking permission to fuck you." Shepard could not resist teasing the perfect woman a little, and met her dangerous, icy glare with a broad grin.

Liara released her hand to swat her on the arm. "Commander!"

"I know that, Shepard. Asari melding is not a completely alien concept to me." Miranda said lethally, and when her words were met with Shepard's unrepentant grin, she threw her hands up in frustration. "You… are the single most infuriating woman I have ever met. Will you never grow up?" There was the faintest tint of affection to the question, barely audible under her annoyance.

"If the past years have not caused her to mature, the answer is probably not." Liara was smiling despite the faint lavender tinge to her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. I was just trying to… make things less awkward, lighten the mood."

"You failed."

"You're not really cross with me?"

"No. I'm not. But you  _are_  an idiot."

Their banter reminded Shepard fondly of their days aboard the Normandy. Although initially it had been less banter and more sniping, neither trusting the other and each relishing each carefully aimed barb at the other. But respect came gradually, as did trust and then genuine affection. And there was no one else that she would trust enough to join with her lover in such an intimate act, even if it was not sexual. "It is up to the two of you." Shepard decided. "If both of you are comfortable doing so, then you have my blessing."

She kissed Liara's cheek. "I trust you. I trust both of you. Now out of the kitchen unless you two want to be eating at midnight."

* * *

Several days passed before the two women managed to find time away from their respective work to conduct the "interview," as Miranda still thought of it.

They sat across from each other on the couch in the living room, the fire had faded to a gentle crackle of blue and yellow flames and orange glow of embers. Shepard had already gone to bed. The commander had good and bad days still; days when old injuries roared to remind her of their continued existence. The ache of her leg, the stiffness of her shoulder, the spasms in her lower back. She had taken a healthy dose of medicine, which usually made her exhausted, and gone to bed not long after dinner.

It was a good time to do it. It was quiet; neither was preoccupied with other work. There was ample time without disturbance. Miranda swallowed hard, unable to quell the nerves in her stomach. She scolded herself for the ridiculousness of it. She was a rigorously trained, highly skilled, lethal operative. She was a scientist. She was a biotic. She was well-acquainted with asari physiology and biology. There was nothing to be nervous about.

Besides, she was a strong woman. The sharing of minds wasn't an involuntary process. She could choose what memories, what thoughts traveled across the meld to Liara. At least, in theory. And the asari would not pry. She trusted Liara. If it had been anyone else, she would not have trusted them to have any access to her mind, her private thoughts. She would not have trusted them not to force their way past her walls, her barriers, not to shove through and plunder her memories.

"We do not have to do this if you wish, Miranda." Liara said gently, without judgment.

Miranda lifted her face, and when she did, ensured that it was schooled into a calm, careful countenance. "You are right. This can give me a perspective I could never have otherwise. And that is what the Alliance wants. Perspective. Besides. I trust you."

At that, Liara smiled that patient, gentle smile of hers, the one that reminded Miranda how pure and untainted the asari was by her life experiences. Where she felt guarded, jaded, Liara was warmth and honesty. Their hands met, without Miranda realizing she had been reaching, and their fingers intertwined. "I will show you what happened on Mars, after Shepard left Earth. Are you ready?"

Miranda nodded, forced more confidence into her voice than she actually felt. "Yes." She was pleased her answer sounded as cool and calm as she intended.

With a gentle tug of her hand, Liara pulled the human closer. Blue eyes melted… no burned into black, accompanied by the flare of blue biotic flames. "Embrace eternity, Miss Lawson."

There was a sudden sensation of falling without dropping, a shift that was barely perceptible yet jarring. She felt the softness of her own hand, marveled at the twin feelings of holding Liara's hand and holding her own. A bubble of panic rose in her throat at the conflict of sensation and emotion, but on the edge there was a calmness, a patient stillness. It took several breaths before she realized the calm was Liara, and the anxious confusion was her own. Gently, the tranquility prodded her, enveloped her.

"It's alright, Miranda." And another moment passed before it clicked that Liara had not spoken the words, but whispered them through the meld. "You're safe. With me." And there was another shift.

The shaft she was in was small, even for her. She abandoned any hope of being stealthy and scrambled as quickly as she could, half-crouching. Fear was barely tangible on the back of her tongue, but she could taste it, stronger was grim determination. She would not die here. The thump of heavily armored bodies was close behind her; she had to move quickly. She instinctually ducked at the crack of a gunshot, its echo leaving her ears ringing in such an enclosed area. Why had they followed her through the shaft? They could have easily just shot at her from the ground below. Idiots.

She moved swiftly, her heart leaping and dropping with each gunshot, each pinging ricochet that followed her. Her lungs ached for air, and her muscles burned from moving so awkwardly through the small space. Turning the corner of the shaft, her mouth dried. It was a dead end. A vent. If it was welded shut, she was dead. Sliding onto her back, she kicked. She could not die here. She would not. She kicked harder and the vent clanged open. She followed it to the ground.

Miranda saw and felt every moment of the experience. The wave of relief once she was in the open, the swirling tempest of biotics as she threw a singularity to capture the Cerberus soldiers. There was a cramp in her leg as she shot them, felt the pressure needed to pull the trigger of her weapon. They were one: Liara and Miranda. There was sweat on her brow, Liara's brow, and Miranda resisted the urge to wipe her own brow with the back of her free hand.

"Easy there, Lieutenant. She's with us." Her heart sang at the sound, a woman's voice with a slight rasp, a voice that she would recognize anywhere. Shepard. She knew her lover was there without having to turn around.  _Thank the Goddess…_  Miranda wanted to weep with relief.

* * *

After Miranda's initial apprehension faded, and she surrendered to the meld, Liara led her through the memory. It was easier than she would have believed. Joining was so intensely personal, so intimate, that she thought she might falter, but it was no different from joining with Shepard. There had been dozens of occasions the couple had joined for reasons other than sex, and this was no different than those times. It was simply with a different person.

She was not surprised to find the former Cerberus operative guarded with her feelings, defensive. But she relaxed into the shared memory as it progressed, feeling with Liara. In the security room, she felt Miranda's heart speed up in time with her own. "What if these are our last days?" She felt her own voice, the swell of dread constricting her throat. "And we spend them scurrying around trying to fix a problem we can't fix?"

She turned to face Shepard, desperate for reassurance for solace in the one person she knew she could always find it. They could flee; they could run away, the two of them. There was a lot of galaxy above them. It would take centuries for the Reapers to eliminate the entire galaxy. The rest of their lives could be spent in peace, enjoying one another loving one another. They did not have to die. They did not have to fight a war that could not be won, their last moments a scream of terror.

She wanted Shepard to take her away, far away. "Liara…" The commander's face was taut and etched with pain. That was a decision Shepard would never make. It was not who she was; she was selfless to her core, and that was why Miranda loved her. Liara blinked as the emotions became confused over the meld, but disregarded the emotion as a phantom of her own.

"I know. I shouldn't think that way." Liara said, sparing her lover. No matter how much Shepard wanted to, she could never abandon her duty, the galaxy. "I don't know how you do it. You've always stayed focused even in the worst situations."

Shepard reached for her, cupped her cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb over her lips. Liara leaned into the touch, knowing that Miranda felt the ghost of the touch, felt the callous of Shepard's thumb over her lips, shared the overwhelming torrent of affection and adoration that washed over Liara. Goddess, even after so long together, even after being separated, a simple touch from Shepard left her lightheaded. "When there is so much at stake, I think about my friends, my loved ones… what I'd lose if I failed."

Her hand fell away and Liara immediately felt the loss of it and stepped closer to her lover. "Me too."

Shepard reached for both her hands and held them in her own, looking down at them as if they were the most precious things in the entire galaxy. "We'll stop them, Liara. Together." There was no doubt, no uncertainty in that voice. It was as strong and determined as she had always known it. She squeezed Shepard's hands in her own. If she believed that the Reapers could be stopped, that was enough for her. Miranda loved her and would follow Shepard to whatever end.

This time, there was no mistaking the confusion and the memory abruptly faded. She loved Shepard. There was a fierceness of spirit that defeated even the most passionate. Dedication and loyalty and compassion were not empty ideals to her. They were not standards to which the commander held herself, but principles she embodied with every action, every word. She believed the best of everyone, even when they proved her wrong. She was selfless, not because of a misguided notion of nobility, but because she loved without reservation. It contrasted sharply with her brutal efficiency on the battlefield; it was simultaneously elegant and terrifying. Her eyes burned with liquid emerald, and her smile was ready and honest. She had lived so long convinced that genuinely good people were either liars or fools, that she scoffed at Shepard's pathetic ideas as weakness. But it was a strength she discovered. Strength without qualification or measurement that she had helplessly fallen in love with.

The emotions, while nearly identical in ferocity and conviction, were not Liara's.

There was an ache there as well, dull and constant, not quite forgotten and always lurking just under the surface. It was a resigned pain, a determination of endurance. She loved Shepard even though she could never be hers. It hurt. Dammit, it hurt so bad sometimes that it hurt to breathe, but Shepard was happy, and after everything she had done, everything she had sacrificed, the commander deserved to be happy. Acceptance was a cold consolation, but she respected Shepard too much for it to be anything else. She loved Shepard, and would always be there for her. Always. Even if it was only ever as a friend.

The living room snapped violently back into focus as the meld was broken. Neither woman stirred, blue eyes meeting blue. Miranda's eyes glistened with tears that caught the waning light of the fire, and Liara was reminded of the huge glaciers of blue ice on Thessia that melted in the summer sun. Her heart broke for the perfect woman across from her, the strong, cold woman who had held her hand through so many sleepless nights while Shepard barely clung to life.

Miranda had always been there. Not out of duty or loyalty to the commander but for love of the woman. So many times she had comforted Liara while silently suffering the same agony herself, hoping she would wake up, that she'd see those beautiful green eyes again. Miranda had given her the love of her life back not once but twice. The second time she had given Shepard back to Liara knowing that she could never be hers. Tears stung the back of Liara's eyes.

"Oh, Miranda…" She breathed.

"Oh, god… Liara—I would—I'm sorry, I—" She wrenched her hand back from the asari. "I would never…" The former executive officer ran her fingers through her hair in a thoroughly uncharacteristic loss of composure. "I…" Tears spilled silently from her eyes, streaking her pale, flawless cheeks and Liara reached for her hand again, wanting to comfort her. But the hand was jerked away, and Miranda quickly stood without meeting her eyes again. "I… I have to go. I'll go." She walked quickly towards the hall to her bedroom.

"Miranda, wait!" Liara followed her. "You don't have to go, we can…" Talk? Liara did not know what. She did not want the other woman to leave. Especially not when she was hurt and upset, but she'd know her a long time. Even before Miranda shut the bedroom door in her face, even before the lock clicked, she knew that Miranda would not talk if she did not want to. She was hurt and embarrassed and vulnerable. Miranda would never let anyone see her vulnerable if she could help it.

Liara rested her brow against the locked door, grateful for the coolness of the wood against her brow. "Miranda…" She whispered, uncertain.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, so hopefully I don't ruin everything with shitty writing or crappy thought processes.

Shepard's hair was a fan of maroon silk against the pillow in the dim bedroom. It had grown out lately and needed to be trimmed to its normal length just below her ears. Liara reached over and brushed a few strands from her lover's closed eyes, but she did not stir. Folding a leg under her body, Liara sat next to her and watched, running her fingers through her hair. The medications she had taken earlier had a sedative effect, and Shepard would sleep heavily for the next several hours. A small stream of drool escaped her slightly parted lips, her face slack with relaxation.

She thought to wake the commander up, but Liara dismissed the idea. The cabin was remote, even more so with transportation still crippled by the war. Even if Miranda ordered a shuttle to pick her up that very moment, it would take at least twelve hours for it to reach them. She could not leave no matter how much she wished to. So Shepard could sleep, at least until dawn. It gave Liara time to think.

She shifted through the information, her thoughts and feelings, the revelation and memories. As Shadow Broker she gathered every source of data she could, constantly analyzing and computing, figuring out how each piece fit with another until she had a whole picture. This was different. It wasn't data streams and information in clear, concise lines, but a foggy muddle of subjective feeling. Not even Glyph could have made sense of it.

Miranda loved Shepard.

Through the meld, she had felt the overwhelming swell of adoration as surely as it was her own. It was not surprising that someone besides herself would love Shepard; everyone loved Shepard. After a while of meticulous contemplation, it did not surprise her that someone besides herself could be  _in_  love with Shepard. Though she had never considered the possibility before, it made sense. One of the commander's great powers was the love and loyalty she managed to inspire in those around her.

What stunned her more was that it was  _Miranda_  that was in love with her bondmate. Samantha Traynor, the communications specialist aboard the Normandy, had been painfully obvious about it, as had Lt. Alenko before his death. Liara could see Tali potentially having an infatuation with her; the Quarian always had a severe case of hero worship with the commander. But Miranda had always been the portrait of poise and professionalism.

Miranda Lawson, the former Cerberus Operative, the perfect woman. Love was irrational and chaotic, unpredictable. All the things that Miranda detested. She was a woman of calculation and reserve, using logic to dictate her actions and reason to govern her thoughts. She had painstakingly erected walls that separated her from everyone else; she was ruthlessly deliberate. When they had first met, so many years ago, Liara had thought she had earned her title of ice queen well.

The edges had definitely softened since then. Miranda had allowed people into her life, saw them more as pawns or variables now. Her smile, while reserved only for those closest to her, was no longer a cruel line but genuine. But she was still Miranda Lawson, controlled and cautious. Love was reckless.

Of course it was Shepard. It was she who softened those sharp edges. Liara allowed a few locks of Shepard's hair to slip between her blue fingers, the echo of her own words writhing to the forefront of her memory.

"You have no idea how much you've changed her." Liara had said, long ago.

Shepard had not known, not then, and neither had Liara known the truth of her own words.

The commander whimpered in her sleep and rolled onto her side abruptly facing the asari, curling in on herself. Liara scooted closer and propped herself against the headboard with her pillow. With the pad of her thumb, she rubbed slow circles on the sleeping woman's temple, reassuring her until her breathing slowed to normal.

She had done the same thing in the long weeks after the war before the commander had regained consciousness. Try to reassure her through touch, caressing whatever uninjured skin she could to assure her of her presence, to coax her back to living. Miranda had been there then, and now Liara revisited the memory with fresh comprehension.

"You should rest," Miranda had said, ticking off the list of the commander's vitals as she did every hour. Slender fingers had checked each bag dangling from the IV tree, adjusting the amount of fluid dripping from the tubes into Shepard's arms. "You're exhausted."

Liara's eyes were stinging and dry, and she had to blink several times for Miranda's face to come into focus. "I won't leave her. I want to be here when she wakes up." Liara had said 'when,' even though at the time it had still been a large  _if_. And she had watched Miranda avert her eyes back down to the unconscious, wounded woman. Those slender, delicate fingers that had the power to kill without mercy, had gingerly brushed Shepard's uninjured cheek.

Shepard and Miranda had been close. But now Liara knew that the touch had not been that of a colleague or friend. It had been a gesture of love, of yearning. While Liara was free to express herself, to weep for her broken, shattered lover, to curse the unfairness of it, to reach out and touch Shepard to console herself that she was still alive, if only barely. Miranda had not been. She had been trapped, all of her feelings caged behind a perfect façade.

In retrospect, Liara was impressed. It had never dawned on her then that Miranda's torment was identical to her own. She was always so careful, so certain. She had withdrawn her hand and crossed the small room to drag another chair next to Liara's, next to the hospital bed. She had sat beside her and placed her hand over Liara's, which rested on the small part of uncharred, unbandaged flesh that was Shepard's wrist.

"She will wake up, Liara." Miranda had whispered with conviction. "She'll come back to you. I do good work, and Shepard's a fighter."

"I know if anyone can give her back to me, it's you, Miss Lawson." Liara had whispered. How much had that statement stung the perfect woman? How sharp of a barb had that been, regardless of how innocently it had been stated?

Miranda hadn't responded right away, her eyes following the asari's to Shepard's face, to the mass of bandages and tubes and exposed flesh and glowing cybernetic implants. The left side of her face bore the brunt of the damage. "She'll be okay." She had said finally, promising the woman she loved to another without a hint of reluctance.

Nothing remained but a small lattice of nearly imperceptible scars where had been tubes and skin grafts. Liara kissed Shepard's cheek and wiggled under the covers, pressing her front to her lover's back, kissing her bare shoulder. Did Shepard know or suspect? No. She would have told her, the asari decided. There were never any secrets. The very nature of their relationship demanded total honesty, constant communication. The fact that neither knew nor even suspected was a testament to Miranda's iron cold determination and restraint.

Liara mulled over her feelings again, sifting through them and identifying each. Astonishment was the first for reasons she had already identified. A pang below her breast that was not pity or sympathy but empathy; she felt the cruelty of Miranda's adoration for the commander as well as her determination that neither she nor Liara would ever find out. It was one of the few genuinely selfless things Liara had witnessed from Miranda, and she respected her for it.

Conspicuously absent, Liara noticed, were any feelings of jealousy or territoriality. Her faith in Shepard's love for her was unshakable. It had been shared and felt over hundreds of joinings as firm a conviction as any fact. No person could change it. Perhaps because she had already shared her lover with an entire galaxy, but the love of another woman was not threatening. Liara wrapped an arm around the commander's waist and pulled her closer, dozing until the early hours of dawn.

* * *

Years of military experience woke Shepard as dawn broke over the mountains. Pale morning light had just begun to slip through the curtains. The regularity of her internal clock rarely allowed her to sleep in. She opened one eye first, then the other, and stretched her arms over her head. Liara's arm was around her middle, and she felt the asari shift.

"Good morning, my love." Shepard settled back into the bed and pulled Liara's arm around her, pulling her closer and yawning. The benefit of waking early was the snuggling. Although no one would believe it if she told them. Commander Shepard. Savior of the Galaxy. Killer of the Reapers. Snuggler.

"Good morning, Commander." Wiggling closer, Liara kissed the back of Shepard's neck. "We need to talk," Liara murmured against her skin.

"Talk? We just woke up" Shepard grinned and blindly reached behind her, squeezed the asari's backside. "Mmm… Let's not talk." Her hand explored further.

"Shepard, no. We need to talk." Liara said flatly and pulled away.

Puzzled, Shepard rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow to gaze down at her lover. The asari's voice had been frighteningly serious, and it was unlike her to so flatly rebuff her without explanation. Liara's expression was severe, her lips pressed into a thin line. Shepard's brows shot up in concern. "What's wrong?"

Liara's expression softened when she saw the worry in Shepard's eyes, and she quickly covered her face with both hands. "Nothing…" Her voice was muffled under her hands. "Well, I do not know."

Gently, Shepard tugged Liara's hands from her face so she could kiss her chastely on the lips and smiled. "You can tell me. Whatever it is."

Nodding slowly, the asari inhaled deeply and began a long exhale. "Miranda is in love with you."

"What?" Shepard laughed at the incredulity of it, but Liara's expression did not crack. "What?" She repeated.

"Miranda is in love with you and has been with some time."

"No way. She… she's my best friend." Though it was a poor approximation for what the former Cerberus operative was. It implied they gossiped over meals or had 'girl's night' or went shopping or something similarly asinine. Not survived multiple attempts to save the galaxy together. Shepard flopped down on to her back, studying the ceiling, protesting though she knew Liara would never make such an accusation unless she was certain. But she still could not force herself to wrap her mind around it. "She was my executive officer. I would have known."

"Have you ever known anything that Miranda did not let you know about herself?" Liara pointed out, which was true to some extent. Miranda was one of the singularly most closed off human beings Shepard had ever met. "I  _joined_  with her Shepard. It must have been confusing with my feelings present. She must have mistaken her own feelings for mine and… slipped. She never intended for you, or for me to know."

"Oh, shit!" Shepard threw the covers off of herself. "She knows? She knows that you know?" She reached for her cane, cursed again when she fumbled and it clattered to the ground. Liara stilled her by placing a hand on her arm, and she stopped and looked over her shoulder at her lover.

"What will you tell her, Shepard?"

"I…" Shepard did not know what she would say to the perfect woman. That was not important. She had to do something, say something to make everything okay. "She will run. I… we know her, Liara. She'll run, and god knows if we'll ever see her again." How many people had the war taken from her? Stolen in an arching beam of light or in a pool of blood. Too many. It was stupid to lose one more for such an asinine reason. She understood why Joker no longer wanted to talk to her, but losing Miranda would be unbearable.

"Do you love her?" Liara asked simply, without accusation. There was no fear, no hesitation in her eyes, just honest curiosity. She might has well have been asking if the sky on Earth was blue.

"I love you!" Shepard swung her legs back into bed and crushed her lips against Liara's as if trying to convince her of the truth of the statement.

Liara returned the kiss with equal fervor. "I know you do." She smiled. "Embrace eternity?" It was a question, a request, and Shepard nodded. Blue eyes faded to black, and they became singular. "Trust me, my love. Do you love her?"

The answer of course was yes. Besides Garrus, there was no other person she trusted as much as Miranda. (Besides Liara of course.) But love was tricky. She loved many people. It was easy to hate. When first meeting a person, it was easy to make a snap judgment about them, decide that they were too arrogant, too callous, too cruel, too dumb. But once the story behind the person was known, it was not easier to like them, but harder to dislike them.

And upon first meeting Miranda Lawson, she had not expected to actually like her. Their relationship from the beginning had been strained, due in no small part to her executive officer's resentment of her. But Shepard refused to be baited, knowing that the basis for Miranda's disdain in all likelihood did not actually have much to do with who Shepard was, but perhaps what she symbolized.

It was hard to disregard the "perfect woman." For all her arrogance, she was extremely proficient on the battlefield. And it was clear that her superior intelligence could be applied to tactics and strategy as well as science. Yet when it came to other people, she was clinical and detached.

That was the reason she had encouraged Miranda to speak with her sister on Illium. Oriana had been the only person that Miranda seemed to hold dear, to cherish. She was the only person that somehow wheedled her way past the Cerberus operative's self-imposed isolation.

And once Shepard saw Oriana, she immediately understood why. Oriana was more than just a younger sister, but proof to Miranda of what she could have been had it not been for her father. Oriana was a pretty young woman, with a ready smile and selfless ambitions, according to Miranda. She had opportunities, family, affection… all the things that Miranda never had. In her, Miranda saw a version of herself, innocent and loved, what might have been were it not for the manipulation and abuse of a tyrant.

Despite what the Cerberus operative might claim to the contrary, despite the proud mask she presented to the world, Miranda was human. And Shepard felt particularly honored by being allowed to see the woman underneath the Cerberus insignia, beneath the biotic shields.

Miranda was many things that Shepard wasn't. But over time, those differences began to melt away, and Shepard began to see the similarities. Where before she saw only clinical ruthlessness, Shepard now saw past the barriers Miranda had so meticulously erected around herself. She saw a woman who immersed herself so thoroughly in her cause that she was willing to sacrifice the very thing she was supposedly fighting for. Her humanity.

The change was gradual, so gradual that at first Shepard barely noticed it, like the first of the spring snow to melt, barely detectable. They no longer argued, or rather, Miranda no longer argued with her. They did not always agree, but when those moments came, Shepard saw the other woman defer to her command, as if she trusted her. Their conversations were no longer spoken in clipped words restricted to missions and operations. There were moments when they smiled, when Miranda let a dry remark slip past her professionalism, when Shepard caught her gaze and was helpless but to grin.

It was Liara who brought her attention to the change. After the Shadow Broker, the yahg, had been dealt with, after the once shy asari maiden assumed the mantle of the most powerful information broker in the galaxy, she had joined Shepard in her quarters after a tour of the new Normandy. Liara had been the one to hand over Shepard's body to Cerberus, to Miranda. Shepard could not help but feel a pang of guilt whenever she thought of her Liara carrying her corpse to Cerberus.

Over the meld, she felt Liara's presence, following her thoughts. At the surge of guilt, she exuded comfort and understanding. It hadn't been Shepard's fault; no burden would have been too heavy for Liara if it had meant Shepard would return to her. When the stab of guilt had dulled, Liara silently urged Shepard back to the memory.

"So tell me, Shepard," Liara had asked, going to the port window to gaze out the stars. "What are you fighting for?" She paused, but not long enough for Shepard to reply. "The future of humanity, as evidenced by the perfect Miss Lawson?"

The question had thrown Shepard off balance, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek as she sat on the edge of her bed, watching Liara's back. "She has her issues, but she trusts me. And I care about her." She answered with truth, facts. Miranda did trust her, that much was clear now. Ever since she had helped protect Oriana, the constant struggle for power and command had been considerably less tiresome. And she did care about Miranda; but at the time, all Shepard could do was watch Liara. Her Liara.

She traced the outline of the asari's silhouette with her eyes. It had been sometime since they had been together, even longer for Liara. But neither death nor time had altered her feelings for her. Liara had changed, but she was the same woman Shepard had fallen in love with, only stronger, more determined. An undulation of pride welled in her chest and stuck in her throat.

"I remember when I first met her. She was so cold, so detached." Liara almost seemed wistful recalling her first meeting with the Cerberus operative, when she had handed over the remains of Shepard's body to the organization. Shepard pushed the image from her mind, the image of Liara carrying her charred remains to Miranda. It was unsettling to think of herself as dead, as nothing more than savaged, inanimate flesh.

"I don't think she's changed that much." Shepard had replied instead.

"You have no idea how much you've changed her." Liara had slowly turned from the shifting twinkle of the distant stars, the steady glow of planets, and her words hit Shepard like a krogan charge.

Back in the present, the commander sucked in a shaky breath, but Liara was already guiding her down the path of another memory, one more recent.

_Miranda collapsing after she had killed her father with a savage wave of biotics. Shepard darting to her side and scooping the smaller woman in her arms, supporting her head with one hand, the other checking her for bleeding. Kai Leng had brutally beaten the perfect woman. Fear was acrid in the back of her throat. Mordin was dead. She could not lose Miranda as well. Mentally, she pleaded with whatever merciful power in the universe that would listen that she would be okay. Tears springing into her eyes with relief as Miranda smiled and reassured her._

The memories came quickly, spilling over into Shepard and Liara's single consciousness.

* * *

_Miranda had leveled her sidearm at Niket, to set things right, to avenge the betrayal, Shepard had stopped her. The commander had placed a hand on her upper arm and forearm and brought the pistol up, ruining her line of shot. "Miranda, wait! You don't want to do this." Green eyes met her own indigo blue, almost as if she were pleading with Miranda._

_She had no doubt that Miranda could live with shooting Niket, with killing her only childhood friend. If it meant Oriana's security, she would live with the memory, the guilt. But Shepard wanted to ensure that she would not have to._

* * *

" _Shepard, don't try to move." But Shepard had opened her eyes, and met those that were blue. She realized that the bland description of "blue" was woefully insufficient. They were indeed blue, but pale, like blue diamonds or ocean shallows. Like crystalline fire, blazing in intensity as they gazed down. Shepard reached for her, extending a trembling hand towards her face. Miranda responded in an instant, taking it gently in her own, as not to mar the still fragile skin grafts, and lowered it back to the table. "Just lie still. Try to stay calm." She said in an even, reassuring tone, and Shepard closed her eyes again._

* * *

_Two sets of blue eyes that met hers, one lighter than the other, both hopeful. Reflexively, she batted weakly at the tubes in her nose, down her throat, suffocating her. A blue hand stopped her. "It's okay, Shepard." Liara's voice was choked with tears. "You're okay. The Reapers are gone, and you're going to be alright. I love you. I'm here."_

" _Glad you could join us, Commander." Miranda's voice was equally constricted, and Shepard moved her face as much as the tubes would allow to see Liara's free hand clasping Miranda's on the bed beside her._

* * *

_Miranda's comforting presence at her back as the crept through the unnerving hive corridors of the Collector base._

_Her outstretched hand reaching as Shepard made a desperate, hopeless leap for the Normandy, fingers wrapping around her wrist, yanking her aboard._

_At her desk, pale light from the terminal cast onto her face, brow furrowed in concentration, preoccupied._

_Laughter. Genuine and melodious. The most honest sound she had ever heard from the operative._

_Blue eyes. Raven black hair that hung in perfect tendrils and waves. Breasts pushed up yet cleavage hidden by her Cerberus uniform. The curve of her hip, the arc of her ass. The click of her heels. Her smile._

_The pale blue vortex of biotics. Miranda in boxers and a ponytail, barefoot, with a sidearm trained on her, Liara beside her with one hand on the back of her neck._

* * *

Then it all stopped, each memory snapping into place like an elaborate puzzle that had been missing the key element.

It had always been Liara. From the moment she first met the asari, Shepard had been fascinated, and later riveted, and still later, in love. Shepard had never been the foolishly romantic type; lovers came and went, but with Liara it was different. Even at the beginning it had been different. They were more than a balance to each other. Liara kept Shepard grounded, kept her focused, kept her honest.

Even when Liara was not with her, she was what Shepard thought about. She made frequent trips to Ilium, and later to the Shadow Broker's lair, to reassure herself with Liara's presence. The holo on her desk was a poor substitution for the asari, but Shepard gazed at it every night and morning. It was as if the initial phase of the relationship, the infatuation and obsession, had never worn off. They were together. They were meant to be together.

There was a lot to doubt over the past years. Survival was questionable. But she had never doubted her dedication to Liara.

But it had left little room for anything else. She failed to see what was right in front of her for years. She had been so preoccupied with Liara, that any other feelings were stashed aside as unimportant, ignored. Of course she loved Miranda. She was one of her dearest friends. But as every moment flooded back to her, scrutinized with renewed understanding, it became clear.

Like an object squirreled away in a drawer for examination at a later time and then forgotten about, only to be found ages later.

Miranda had always been there, in a different way. With Liara, everything had been so easy, so natural. With Miranda, it had been gradual. Yet, it was still there. Miranda was not perfect; she was far from it. But underneath the façade of cold stoicism was a beautiful, brilliant woman that was not nearly as hard as she would like the galaxy to believe. And it was that spark of humanity, the pieces of herself that Miranda had endeavored to hide from the rest of the world, that Shepard loved.

"I love you, Liara!" Shepard insisted aloud, plaintively. Liara had to know that; she had to know. They had shared minds, hearts. Liara must know that. A part of her panicked, terrified that the asari would feel these conflicting emotions and pull away, leave her.

The asari merely smiled patiently and placed her hand over the commander's heart. "I know you do. And I love you." Their lips met for a long, languid kiss. All of Liara's love and affection and reassurance poured into it, wrapping the both of them in a soothing cloud of emotion. "What you feel for Miranda does not lessen or change what we have.

"But it has always been you, my love. I choose you." Shepard whispered, feeling no shame in the tear that escaped the corner of her eye.

"Why?"

"Why? Because I love you! Because, you're—"

"No. Why choose?"

Shepard opened her mouth open to reply, but found that she could not. She chose because the other option was not choosing. Social norms dictated two individuals in a relationship, dedicated to one another. But given how social norms viewed collars and dominance and submission invalidated that particular argument.

Over the meld, Liara heard (or sensed) Shepard's internal debate with herself. "It is not uncommon on Thessia for relationships to exist in which there are more than two partners. While it is not the norm, neither is it met with disapproval."

"You're not angry or jealous?"

"Why would I be? I know that you love me, Shepard. You know that I love you." There were times when Liara seemed so much wiser than her hundred odd years. "Nothing can ever change that. We are bound, forever."

Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, Shepard remained silent. This was too much, too soon, and not how she intended on waking up this morning. She felt overwhelmed. First, with the revelation that Miranda was in love with her. Second, with the revelation that she was in love with Miranda. Third, that her lover was suggesting that a relationship with "more than two partners" was an option.

"Liara!" Shepard lifted her hands and dropped them to the bed in frustration. "What the hell. I don't… I don't know what I want. Would you be okay with that?" She tugged away from the meld without breaking the connection completely. She needed to think. She needed clarity. And a cup of coffee.

"I… I don't know, Shepard. I care for Miranda, deeply." Liara kept her hand over Shepard's heart. "I am not jealous. Nor do I feel threatened. The past several weeks have been very… enjoyable. With her here." They had been. Miranda had assimilated seamlessly into their lives, as if she had always been with them. "But she won't remain here unless you speak with her. Tell her the truth."

"Do you want me to? Or do you want me to because you think it will make me happy?" Shepard rolled over onto her side again to face the asari. She felt Liara nudge at the edges of her consciousness, urging her to accept the full meld again, and she did.

Acceptance, not resignation, washed over her like a breeze. There was no envy, no malice, just warmth and understanding. Emotions, like unseen colors, swept through their shared mind. There was concern as well, not simply for Shepard, but for Miranda as well, apprehension at the conflict between the two human women. And, right beside her glowing love for Shepard, like a small ball of light, was Liara's affection for Miranda, and the fear that they might lose the raven-haired woman from their lives.

* * *

Miranda had not slept when gray light streamed through her window. The drawers of the dresser had been cleaned out, her clothes carefully folded and packed into suitcases. She had not contacted the shuttle yet, but it could wait until later. It would take ages for it to reach the cabin, so she would be forced to speak with the commander anyway in all likelihood. That is, if Shepard could face her.

How had she been so stupid? She should have never joined with Liara. It was a stupid mistake. She was supposed to be brilliant, bloody perfect. Yet she had made such an obvious blunder. She should have known that her feelings would betray her, known that Liara's feelings would coax her own to the surface.

As it was, she could still feel the ghost of Shepard's hand touching her cheek, thumb caressing her lips, and knew it would only ever be that: a ghost of a caress meant for another woman. The truth of it made it difficult to breathe, her heart constricted in pain that felt physical. Miranda struggled to shove the feeling down, to suppress it.

She was Miranda Lawson.

Brilliance, beauty, skill, talent were etched into every gene. And it used to be that simple. Every decision was made objectively weighing her options, all possible outcomes, the costs versus the benefits. Everything was a challenge, a problem to be solved. Cerberus gave her a goal: ensure humanity's survival. They had given her the means to accomplish the mission. How she did so was her discretion.

When it came to the welfare and benefit of humanity, the cost was almost always worth it. People were assets, just like anything else. Credits, weapons, knowledge, people… each could be weighed in worth. Shepard was worth at least four billion credits, according to Cerberus financial reports. Emotion clouded judgment, muddied the waters of decision. It had no basis in fact, no bearing on reality. Feelings were an excuse the weak relied on to eschew the responsibility of hard decisions.

It had been easier when Shepard had simply been Project Lazarus. She could regard her with a surgeon's coldness. She was a datapad of readouts, of vital statistics, of past and future procedures. She was an experiment to be manipulated, painstakingly manufactured into existence. She was simply a series of calculations and measurements. Every detail was distinct from the whole, separate from what would become a living, breathing woman.

When she had been Project Lazarus, she had been a pleasurable challenge, a trial that tested all of Miranda's skills and intelligence. When she became Shepard, everything changed. Miranda changed.

There were days when she cursed the change within herself, cursed Shepard for making her into a better person. Shepard made her want to  _be_  a better person. She had never meant to fall in love with her.

The commander had something she did not. For all of her fancy enhanced genetics and upgrades, Miranda lacked one thing not even her father or Cerberus with their unlimited resources could give her. Shepard had that spark, that undeniable flare about her that made men and woman willingly to follow her to whatever ends, into the gates of hell and back.

Where Miranda was ice and clinical deliberations, Shepard was fire and passion.

With her undeniable allure and infallible sense of honor, she inspired a sort of loyalty and dedication that Miranda could never hope for. And it wasn't dedication to a mission or loyalty to any great cause that she inspired, but a dedication to herself. The people she assembled around her would not follow her because they were committed to the mission, but because they were committed to Shepard.

As much she had believed in the mission, as much as she had believed herself committed to the advancement and protection of humanity, Miranda felt herself equally devoted to Commander Shepard and perhaps even some of the ideals she embodied. Somehow, the commander had melted away the things that Miranda once believed to be right, the things she believed about herself, and replaced them with something different, something more.

And because she wanted to be a better person, she buried her feelings as deep as possible, hid them away so the commander would never know, and later, so that Liara would never know. It would not be fair to either of them, and Miranda respected both women too much to interfere in their relationship, to even hint at her own personal agony.

Besides of which, she had her pride. She might have been in love with Shepard, but she knew that it could never be requited. Liara had always been the sole focus of the commander's attention, her affection. It had always been obvious. At first, Miranda had thought it was pathetic, the way Shepard was so obviously consumed by the asari, sentimental nonsense. But, that had changed along with all of her initial perceptions about the commander.

She would not needlessly expose herself to rejection, or worse, pity.

She promised herself long ago, that no matter the circumstance, Shepard would never know her feelings. But she also promised herself that her consolation would be that she would always be there for the woman, whenever Shepard needed her, she would be there. It might have not been the way she wanted, but at least she could be a part of Shepard's life. For a long time, it was enough.

When she had locked the door behind her, Miranda had been mortified. Liara knew, and god only knew what she thought of her. Did she think she was pathetic, pining over a woman she could never have? Did she pity her? Or worse, did she think that Miranda was simply biding her time, pretending to be a good friend to them both until she could make her move on Shepard? She could not bear it if Liara, if the commander thought less of her. Before Shepard, Miranda would have scoffed at the notion she needed anyone's approval.

Then the initial horror of being found out had passed and Miranda had sobbed aloud. Dry, tearless sobs that doubled her over, that robbed her of breath. They were the tears of an adult, one that knew loss was permanent. She had not cried like that since she had escaped her father. One she knew, Liara would certainly tell Shepard. And the commander would never rely on her the same way, never regard her the same way. Every word, every touch, no matter how innocent, would be suspect. She had lost the one piece of Shepard that she had possessed: her trust. It was irrevocably gone.

The commander was noble, good to the tips of her (perfectly reconstructed) toes. She would insist that nothing changed, yet in the back of her mind there would always be a little nag of doubt, of uncertainty. Miranda would spare her that lie; she would leave. Perhaps go to Sill, help Ori with the rebuilding effort. Her sister would have suspicions, questions. But she would rather questions than the gleam of pity in Shepard's eyes.

The rap on the door steeled Miranda's resolve. Swallowing the last of her tears, she stood to unlock the door and to confront the woman she loved for the last time.


End file.
